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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692433">Cold Nights in June</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsLikeAlice/pseuds/FeelsLikeAlice'>FeelsLikeAlice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, Mental Health Issues, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Tags Are Hard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:15:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsLikeAlice/pseuds/FeelsLikeAlice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Semi-AU<br/>June is many things, some of which she´s intended to be and some that just happened along the way. The thing that she stumbles into on her latest dig is many things too.<br/>And now they´re all supposed to be June. Or maybe she´s just another thing now.<br/>Basically June dealing with a former(?) goddess(?) attached to her and everything that follows.<br/>Inevitably</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enchantress (DCU) &amp; June Moone, Enchantress (DCU)/June Moone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424512">Mayfly and the Endless Night</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtit/pseuds/dogtit">dogtit</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Frick, forgot about this. </p><p>Right, disclaimers and that stuff´s supposed to be here and tbh, I´m tempted to just copy these but I guess I´ll wing it for now.</p><p>I don´t own DC`s stuff, obviously, that being characters and all of the plot / happenings that have not originated in my f-ing head. <br/>That should be that. <br/>Everything else is sorta mine though, so hands-off my shit. </p><p>Cool. Cya at the bottom.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I. <em><span class="u">Life</span></em><strong><em><span class="u">/</span></em><span class="u">Death</span><em><span class="u">/Rebirth </span></em></strong></p>
<p>24 years.</p>
<p>A large chunk of it committed to chasing what she considers to be her one true passion around the globe, reading, researching, paying visits to countless exhibitions and sites across multiple continents, ultimately studying in a what could ( and was, by individuals she either never let into or eventually cut out of her life ) only be called obsessive manner and ultimately acchieving a virtually flawless degree.</p>
<p>A brief period of frustration when the pieces around her stubbornly refused to fall into place, the resulting backlash of a mind singularily focused on one thing being denied that very thing, overcoming it and herself ( of course ) and at last getting rewarded for all of it. The first few jobs, being a part of something that truly felt like <em>her </em>thing, growing into herself and into her place till people – at last – noticed June Moone, archeologist, for what she was.</p>
<p>Knowledgeable. Curious to the death. Passionate and strong willed. Sometimes perhaps a bit too much for those less ... dedicated. Maybe a bit aloof, at times. Whatever. June can back it up.</p>
<p>Either way, June´s finally made her presence known, started to leave her imprint on the world, succeeded in a field that left so many unsatisfied in their choice of work - and others completely barren. Proved it to herself that she could. Bigger jobs, bigger digs, bigger publicity, bigger pay. Didn´t hurt that if not her persona at least her looks were apparently ... marketable. Not that June cared about any of it, not really - but the validation still felt nice. And all put together paved her way into the unknown, the stories and truths, the learning and seeing and knowing. Ultimately, it lead lead June here.</p>
<p>This being ... whatever it was. June´s first impression went somewhat like “Lying in complete darkness, feeling like every bone in her body had just been crushed into fine powder”.</p>
<p>The pain, the distinct wetness of bleeding out of multiple cuts and bruises being the only indicator that she was, in fact, <em>not</em> dead. Somehow. Somewhere. Dark and silent.</p>
<p>Needless to say June isn´t happy with it. “Not happy” being the understatement of the century. She tries to breathe and comes to regret it as sharp pain runs down the throat and into her chest alongside a thin tentacle of treacherous air. June coughs heavily, painfully, coughs up what has to be blood. She can taste it. Not a good sign. Draws in another heep of air, more carefully this time, the sound of her just lying prone on a cold surface being the only one around.</p>
<p>It´s too loud, unhealthy and wet. That and the anxious beating of her heart, slowly pushing it´s way back into existance. Or her perception of things. There´s no way to be sure. Time passes, some time, an indefinable amount spent with June Moone doing nothing but breathing. Making sure she´s still alive at first, followed closely by reassuring herself that this very fact is not going to change within minutes.</p>
<p>She´s positive, as much as one can be in her position.</p>
<p>After another while, after the pain simmers down to a bearable, non-tear-inducing amount ( except for a few throbbing sensations which stay just as sharp, if not more so, have to indicate something being <em>severly</em> wrong ), she attempts to move. Groans and sweats and bleeds some more, but accomplishes <em>something</em>. She probably looks like a fish on land that´s dangerously close to running out of breath, wiggling weakly, but that´s fine. She can move. A bit. Which is good, definitely, although continuing to do so sounds like a not-so-good idea. Taking a break and many, many breaths before trying again much more so.</p>
<p>Right. Things work, but hurt. Which leaves the fantastic question of "what the fuck actually happened?"</p>
<p>June´s not sure, her head´s hurting and recent memory appears to be a jumbled mess. Where is she then? In the dark. Hurting. Obviously. Her lack of knowledge is as aggrevating as her injuries.</p>
<p>“Her” being ... June ... Moone, accomplished archeologist, most recently found in ... on ... a site! That´s right, an only <em>very recently</em> dug up site ... in ...</p>
<p>More memories flood back into a mind that feels like a stuttering engine. Trees, many trees, green all around. A campsite, people like her and people with darker skin. Locals. Mosquitoes at day, mosquitoes a night, sounds of nature not caring for a bunch of intruders, life and death all around their little corner of civility. She didn´t care all that much. All she cared about was ... <em>ruins</em>.</p>
<p>The dig itself. Fascinating, outside of ... central america? Yes. Guatemala. And the culture ... Mayan. No doubt. The ruins small and overgrown but intact, somewhat, somehow. The excitement only an unexpected find such as this could invoke. Incredible when she first heard of it. Incredible as she set eyes upon the ruins, the carvings, the imagery, both consisting of an artistic as well as the historic value. Excitement. Mayan indeed. Unexplored. Just waiting for someone, waiting to be found, waiting for <em>her</em>. Somehow that formerly so pleasant thought now seems decisively less so, with cold shivers and waves of hot pain racing through June´s system. And why is that?</p>
<p>Why ... why ... Why indeed. She remembers, now, slowly, piece by piece, image by image. It feels ... weird. Like watching a movie, a dramatic one, a ship steering towards it´s inevitable doom. June knows the feeling, doesn´t like it, hates it, in fact. No matter. Back then ... she can´t quite recollect the feeling but she knows it must´ve been exhilarating. June knows herself. Reaching the encampment, it is deep into the day, late evening and the wildlife grows ever more active, awakes instead of falling asleep.</p>
<p>Just like Dr. Moone herself, even after long hours, <em>days</em> trapped on a small boat with guides and locals she could only communicate with on the most simplistic of levels.</p>
<p>Restless. Curious. Excited upon nightfall. Pretty much standart-June stumbling towards her current focal point of interest. The latest discovery just waiting to be made. Tomb, city, ruin, writing - it doesn´t matter. This time however was ... June was like she always was but somewhat <em>not</em>. She never <em>completely</em> lost sleep over work, did late-nights, countless ones, work-related and not but always, <em>always</em> slept at least a few hours, preferably deep into the morning. Even when being as close to her destination as their encampment happened to be. Even when not being allowed to begin sniffing out the digsite as soon as her heart desires.</p>
<p>This time she does. This time she tosses around in her tent, in the safety of her “anti-everything-flying"-net and just wouldn´t fall asleep. And at some point, way beyond any justifyable hour, June gives up trying and did something else.</p>
<p>This June, the badly-bleeding, hurting June cringes at her past self. The past one didn´t. The past one dressed in a feverish hurry, snuck out of encampment, broke the very basic and yet very, immensely important rule of “don´t go exploring alone; don´t put yourself or the digsite at risk via reckless behaviour” ( not to mention the common sense of “don´t go wandering into the jungle on your own at night EVER” ).</p>
<p>This June blinks. Irritated. Because she <em>does</em> remember the jungle at night, <em>does</em> remember laying eyes upon the ancient, long forgotten walls, overgrown and crumbling but there and oh-so-exciting. She does <em>not</em>, however, remember having been shown the way beforehand. Just ... wandering off. And through an entrance, barely recognizable as such anymore, just two pillars standing upright throughout the centuries, defying rain and wind, nature´s hold and time itself.</p>
<p>June remembers the awe, the amazement at actual, undoubtably mayan carvings on the stones. Pictures, lines, imagery she´s not seen the likes of in real life and certainly not in an environment as unforgiving and taxing as the meso-american rainforest. And yet ... and yet ... Something feels ... off. Did then, does now, only she didn´t recognize it through the mind-numbing stupor of discovery and sleep-deprivation.</p>
<p>Instead June went deeper into the site, following the trail of light her headlamp struc- The realization feels like a literal ray of light.</p>
<p>She´s June Moone, archeologist extraordinare but not even <em>June</em> is daft or overconfident enough to wander off into the night <em>without lighting</em>.</p>
<p>Not to mention the poor experience that trying to discover ancient architecture without being able to see any details would´ve been, moon or no moon.</p>
<p>Right. June very cautiously moves her hand upwards, groaning ever so slightly but apparently succeeding in not inflicting too much damage on her body. Her arms feel ... alright, sort of. There´s something wrong with her left hand she reckons, very wrong, probably a few broken bones, maybe a finger or two but she can´t be bothered. Not by that, nor by the fact that her gloves haven´t been able to save her palms from being a raw mess. That ought to come alongside with sliding and falling down a dark hole. Which is exactly what she appears to have done. Probably. By accident - but still.</p>
<p>June doesn´t know how or why. Only vaguely recalls stepping into what appeared like the central part of the complex, walking up to and ultimately touching a very eye-catching, very distinctly mayan, if unfamiliar pattern on the wall – for some <em>inane</em> reason – and then ... falling. Sliding, crashing into hard stone, pain in her legs, her ribs, her head – then nothing.</p>
<p>Blackness. More black as she regains consciousness. Black that shan´t rain no longer, if June´s got any say in this. If she´s lucky.</p>
<p>If only ... her hands hit home, find the portrusion of a button on top of the remains of a helmet which might´ve just saved her life, messy, dirty fingers trembling and then ... June can´t help the relieved exhale, immediately followed by the punishing stab of pain into her chest. Ribs bruised or broken, probably. Whatever. She´s got light now.</p>
<p>She might just be fine now that she´s no longer lying broken in the unfamiliar blackness and instead just ... well. It´s uncomfortable, almost scary, <em>nothing</em> giving room to <em>something</em> all of a sudden.</p>
<p>A room, for the lack of a better word. Except, there is one. A chamber. Same origin as the remains above ground, same age, at least upon first impression. For a bit June just looks, her eyes attempting to adjust to the sudden shapes around her, the light, trying to make sense of it all, to regain orientation. She takes note of what can only be described as a <em>fucking hole in the ceiling</em>, made up of gaping darkness with peaks of raw, barely distinguishable stone. It does look like it goes upwards in an almost 90 degree-angle. It does look like this is how June got in here. It does <em>not</em> look like it´s how she´s going to get out of here. It does not look like there´s another way either.</p>
<p>June closes her eyes and just breathes, fighting back the panic lurking at the edges of her mind. She makes do.</p>
<p>Right. When she can be sure that the initial surge has faded enough for her to proceed, to not freak out like a scared girl hiding under her blankets, she re-openes her eyes. Takes in her surroundings once again.</p>
<p>She is in a chamber, somewhat underground, somehow unlocked by her stumbling across a mechanism – or more likely a wall worn down all the way into non-existance, a loose stone in the floor, something like that. And it´s utterly ridiculous.</p>
<p>Things like this, “attractive female stumbles across secret chamber in ancient ruin due to unexplainable curiosity, hurts herself and gets drawn into whatever crazy-shennanigans” – they´re not supposed to happen. Not real.</p>
<p>Made up bullshit in order to make science more exciting to the braindead outsider. Lara-Croftian bullshit. Stereotype.</p>
<p>June´s admittedly been drawn into this world of hers by that very stereotype in her teenage years, had an embarrassing crush on Angelina Jolie for that very reason - one she´s thankfully gotten rid off ever since – and continuosly hated the fact that 95% of the people thought “Tomb Raider” on the rare occasions when she opened up about her job.</p>
<p>It´s ridiculous. Yet here she is. Only that she is June Moone, authentic, non-superhumanly-athletic archeologist and most importantly, not nearly as durable as certain characters of fiction.</p>
<p>Thinking about it, June dares to direct her gaze – as well as the lighting – downwards, onto her torso, the sight of which making her swallow hard. And she´s seen some shit.</p>
<p>For a second the rational side of her mind and the instinctual one can´t decide between “Really bad” and “Oh shit” until, of course, thankfully, analytical thinking takes over. Her formerly so pristine trousers and top have taken upon different, never-intended-to-be shades of brown and red, are torn in multiple places and just generally fucked. There´s an unhealthy portrusion where her left shin´s supposed to be perfectly even - which June can only <em>hope</em> doesn´t mean an open break.</p>
<p>Her hands ... raising them infront of her face and directly into the light ... she doesn´t remember any of the actual fall – or slide, descend, whatever – but apparently she´s been scrambling for purchase on the walls. Regretably so, because her gloves are just <em>gone</em>, transformed into tattered rags that can´t quite hide several weird-looking and horribly throbbing deformations. Breaks. Not to mention the blood.</p>
<p>June turns away, wishing she´d not looked that closely. Spends a few moments breathing, almost thankful for the stinging pain that appears to run down her throat all the way into her lungs. A little blood leaks out of her mouth, nothing else.</p>
<p>She doesn´t remember having eaten anything earlier in the day. If it is still ... nighttime or at all close to when she made what could possibly be the worst and least-thought-out decision of her life.</p>
<p>It´s literally <em>impossible</em> to tell with no phone and her watch somewhere she doesn´t need it, inside her tent, in the boat, left at home, somewhere but <em>not here</em>. The only thing she knows that it´s dark and cold.</p>
<p>The stone is cold, as is the air. June doesn´t feel ... chilly, not like she´s been lying here for an overly long, dangerous amount of time but ... she probably shouldn´t do so longer than necessary.</p>
<p>She has to get the fuck out of here. Get help or help herself.</p>
<p>Reminding herself of a snail or a worm or perhaps a seal, a very pathetic, unappealing one, June very carefully props herself up on her elbows. It hurts, but not too much.</p>
<p>Not in a “putting weight on broken bones”-way but in a “putting a thoroughly battered body under even further strain”-way.</p>
<p>It´s okay.</p>
<p>June´s mind can deal with it.</p>
<p>Breathing flat and quickly, feeling a patina of cold sweat amass itself on her forehead, she takes another look around, actually taking in the details of her surroundings for the very first time beyond instinctually looking for an escape.</p>
<p>And feels it immediately.</p>
<p>The room, her prison feels ... weird<em>. Off. Wrong</em>. <em>Something</em> about it does.</p>
<p>There´s not a whole lot to see, actually, four walls, intricate encarvings on the stone in a remarkable state of conservation ( something she´d die to inspect in literally <em>any</em> other scenerio, still wants to <em>right now</em> but manages to push the urge away ) and a few central pieces making up ... something. Oh, and the thrice-cursed hole in the ceiling, the floor littered with rubble, stone and dirt - and a certain June Moone that appears <em>somewhat</em> out of place.</p>
<p>June laughs at the absurdity of her own thinking, coughs up some more bloody saliva and recollects herself.</p>
<p>It truly doesn´t look like her way in is her way out, wouldn´t even be a viable option if she <em>was</em> Lara fucking Croft and owning a miracle ( treasure, shrine, holy relict ) of a body that wasn´t in the state of ... June doesn´t want to think about the state she´s in. Looks back to the conundrum of ... objects she finds herself in the company of instead.</p>
<p>They´re perched up on what her mind tells insists is an altar, of sorts. Or a weirdly religious looking lounger. It´s mayan, that´s what it is and, trusting her instincts on the matter, it´s somewhat of a religious thing, although the specifics require further inspection. There are several object perched upon the might-be-shrine, might-be-bedrest, all of them in an exciting manner of upkempt. Several vessels of different sizes and shapes, a cup, what appears to be a very simplistic set of cutlery and a few other, larger items she can´t make out from where she´s situated, no matter how intently she stares at the conundrum of treasure.</p>
<p>It´s exhilarating, the position she´s in, the priviledge, so much so that she forgets about the pain, the cold, the bloodloss – until she realizes that none of what she sees will help her get out of here.</p>
<p>That puts a damper on June´s excitement.</p>
<p>And underneath there is vague fear and raw cold and pain. June doesn´t want to die.</p>
<p>Although there are worse ways to go than simply falling asleep next to ancient artifacts – but she doesn´t want to.</p>
<p>June refuses. There´s more to do, to explore and learn and experience, so much more out there.</p>
<p>Therefore, she has to do something. Help herself.</p>
<p>June attempts to get up – and fails, screams wordlessly like a banshee as soon as she tries to put even a resemblence of weight on her legs.</p>
<p>It´s not just her shin, it´s her ankle too. The other one. More sweat, more tears, more pain follow suit. Frustrated and painful whimpers.</p>
<p>The apparent echoing of her own voice manages to quickly break through the veil conjured into existance, wrapped around her mind.</p>
<p>Make her want to scream again, louder, constantly, up into the darkness of her way into this glorious deathtrap despite her ribs digging into what feels like some intricate part of her organism every time she takes in a deep breath.</p>
<p>“HELP!”</p>
<p>
  <em>Help-help-help-help ...</em>
</p>
<p>The pain lingers, as does the noise, for a long, <em>long</em> time.</p>
<p>That´s bad. It means that there´s no clean way for her voice out of here, not even through the fucking hole in the ceiling.</p>
<p>“HELP!”</p>
<p>She tries again, despite the sting turning into a sharp burning sensation and blood coming up alongside with her hoarse voice.</p>
<p><em>Help-help-help ...</em> it echoes weakly.</p>
<p>Like a spirit-June, trapped just like she is.</p>
<p>June swallows hard, watches a legion of ancient dusty particles tremble in the bright beam of her headlamp. If only she knew the time, knew if there were people looking for her already, knew how much time she´s got left, how long she was unconscious for, how long till the cold and the blood already having left her body will bring her to the edge.</p>
<p>She´s pretty sure that she´s not going to die just like that, pretty sure that she has <em>some</em> time left. Has to believe that people eventually will look for her, might stumble upon her tracks, might find the very same spot that caught her eye, might figure out what she´s figured out accidentally.</p>
<p>June can´t allow herself to think about all the strangers up there. That there´s noone she actually, physically knows. Noone to testify for her drive, her curiosity, her potential, her being a restless and reckless nature on occasion.</p>
<p>Cannot. Not that there´s <em>anyone</em> at all that would reliably be able to.</p>
<p>Thankfully, there are distractions aplenty to spend some time on while she waits for ... something. Time to pass, time for people to track her down.</p>
<p>She is, after all, surrounded by ancient history waiting to be untangled and put into perspective and while June´s by no means the worlds most knowledgeable person about Mayan culture, she´d still confidently put herself in the top 20.</p>
<p>So, keeping herself busy it is. Falling back into the familiar pattern of discovery is an almost physical relief. Even if it consists of June literally just crawling up to the nearest wall.</p>
<p>It´s still <em>her</em> hand carefully brushing across the stone, <em>her</em> eyes the first ones to set sight on the figures and symbols carved into the wall millenia ago. June Moone, archeologist on-site and not at all having-fallen victim to her own curiosity and badly injured, takes <em>her</em> time, as always. Takes in the details, the bigger picture, then goes back to the details.</p>
<p>After what feels like minutes during which she can barely feel the pain throbbing through her body or the cold seeping into it from the outside, she´s pretty sure to have acchieved at least a basic understanding of the situation at hand.</p>
<p>The walls tell a story, which, of course, seems to be interwoven with religion. A common theme but continuously fascinating nonetheless, even if June herself doesn´t share any sentiments of that nature.</p>
<p>There are people and buildings, priests and commoners and nobles, a civilization. The maya. And there are their gods. So far, so good. Basic stuff, self portrayal.</p>
<p>It just doesn´t make any sense for this to be found this far south of their closest known settlement. It is outright <em>weird</em>, makes June her question hers as well as common knowledge, because she´s studied this civilization, the religion, the culture, beginnings, high-points and ending, <em>everything about them</em> extensively and prides herself to know almost everything there is.</p>
<p>This however ... In addition to it´s location, there´s the nature of the imagery.</p>
<p>Three out of four walls are littered with images that don´t quite fit into any existing story or myth or interpretation, not entirely. There are elements, of course, sun and moon, gods and people, sacrifice, war, nature and growth. But the closer and longer she looks, the more details June perceives as ... <em>off</em>. The more it feels like every single image, every knick is part of a singular story she doesn´t know, one that nobody might know.</p>
<p>Yet.</p>
<p>And for the fickle life of her, June Moone can´t make sense of it, not within the brief period of time she´s spent amidst the imagery.</p>
<p>Can´t make sense of it. What she can do is attempt to feel out the emotions attached to it. Put herself in the shoes of those carving <em>something</em> out of flat stone. Why? What is it the story its makers want to tell?</p>
<p>June feels ... discomfort. The urge to turn her back on the walls, the death and the people and their gods and their empire and story and ... she keeps looking regardless and at last, when taking in all four walls together, finds something they appear to have in common.</p>
<p>And suddenly she´s certain that she is in fact inside of a tomb. Then she thinks of Lara Croft once again and can´t help but chuckle wetly. But clearly, June has more important things to worry about. Like, for example, the female figure that appears to connect the walls like pearls on a string. Which is completely fucking weird because the Maya being Maya, there is no room for women in the ruling class. The exception being, to simplify a complicated matter – gods.</p>
<p>At least as far as June´s personal knowledge and advanced modern science goes.</p>
<p>And now this.</p>
<p>June shivers and it´s not just because of the cold or excitement or pain or anything she can put a finger on.</p>
<p>It´s because of this place. And it´s centrepiece. And the imagery on it´s walls.</p>
<p>Whatever story it tells, whether it´s about a woman, multiple or none at all. There´s at least one that she can suddenly make out in more and more of the carvings, one who stands tall and high above the commoners and is portrayed in a manner that would be fitting of a ... king. Or god.</p>
<p>Yet there was no empress that June knows off.</p>
<p>Another shiver.</p>
<p>Because the figure doesn´t look like any goddess or entity June´s familiar with either.</p>
<p>It – she – is portrayed ... differently, showing a distinctly changed look multiple times while always keeping the same face. Face ... or mask.</p>
<p>And there´s this fucking massive construct right infront of June, right in the centre of this chamber and while she doesn´t understand what exactly the story is or can´t even be sure what it´s about, June just feels that whatever this is supposed to be – <em>it matters.</em></p>
<p>So she does exactly what she´s done to get her here, follows a cruel, irrational train of thought, gives into her impulsive nature and crawls towards the centre. Slowly.</p>
<p>All while feeling strangely, almost maniacly excited, actually being able to hear, <em>feel</em> her heart beating out of her chest and through the entirety of her body. Because this feels ... right. She would´ve eventually gotten to exploring everything either way. Now, in ten or thirty minutes, what does it matter?</p>
<p><em>Now</em>, because it feels ... right. Urgent. <em>Now.</em></p>
<p>Because maybe she is running out of time and June Moone wouldn´t be June Moone at all if she were to miss out on a piece of history only because of a few broken bones and a bit of blood.</p>
<p>Somehow, when she reaches the cuboid, she manages to work through the pain and pull herself upwards, clinging onto the edge like a drowning dog.</p>
<p>Hurts like a bitch. Somehow, it doesn´t matter. The adrenalin, probably. June´s always been a sucker for unconventional thrills. And this – this feels like ... like ... fate, almost.</p>
<p>Like all her life has led her here, like this is the culmination of her passion and efforts, sacrifice and suffering. Like maybe this will make everything worth it.</p>
<p>Wheezing and panting, June stares down at her treasure. And chokes and hurts and almost flinches backwards into what might´ve been another bone of hers broken, this time her skull, perhaps.</p>
<p>Her treasure is being proven right. Her treasure is rags and bones that will crumble into dust if she so much as breathes at them too strongly. A tomb alright. A sceleton.</p>
<p>She´s seen ones beforehand, of course, old ones, ancient ones and even rather recent ones but none have hit her unprepared and very few of them were just ... <em>there</em>.</p>
<p>Like this one is. Just there, very flat and fragile and very dead. Placed upon the cold stone like ... a sacrifice. That´s how it looks like, to her, to her analytical thinking - except it doesn´t make sense because there´s supposed to be treasure, valuables, an actual tomb and not just ... this. A sceleton and a sparce selection of ... items.</p>
<p>Objects of everyday usage, just like she´d thought earlier. Which just doesn´t make sense, like this entire endeavor, almost makes her angry in it´s wrongness and ... Until it doesn´t.</p>
<p>Because June´s eyes have just been caught by something quite small, quite ... intricate compared to knife and flask and cup, something that´s just as out of place as the entire site, <em>wrong</em>, and therefore connecting <em>everything</em> together. Like a string, perhaps. It´s caught in between the fingers of the corpse which is why June, attentive as she is, hasn´t caught it upon first sight but now ... Now she can´t look away.</p>
<p>Not even towards one of the walls, dark and barely more than a hint at something solid, something real beyond the small area lit up by her headlamp. Not even to check. Because she <em>feels it</em>, feels that this tiny figurine is the very same woman from the carvings, might be the bones lying infront of her, might just be the reason for this place. The string. The figurine. The skeleton. The images. The story.</p>
<p>Hers now. June feels it in her bones. She knows, as she watches the twisted fingers of her left hand reach for it, knows that it matters, that it is right, that she doesn´t care for anything but <em>this</em> in this very moment, that this is <em>hers,</em> fate, purpose, life; watches as the fickle bones holding onto the figurine do crumble into yet another layer of fine dust and her hand just manages to get a hold of the object of her desire, knows that it won´t crumble or break of fade away despite it´s age, that it´s not just clay or gold or bronze or anything but ... <em>more</em>. <em>Different</em>.</p>
<p>June´s entire world <em>throbbs</em> with the irratic beating of her heart as she straightens up, not hurting, not panicking, realining herself with the figurine to stare at the tiny face, the woman safely kept in the grasp of her broken hand. And takes in the details, a face and body lacking details but – <strong><em>a goddess, an empire, women, men, worship, power, blood, betrayal, darkness</em></strong> - let´s go of it as if burned by the touch.</p>
<p>The figurine tumbles out of her hand and crashes onto cold stone, splintering into a million pieces.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>June stares and stares and stares at its remains and only remembers to breathe when it´s almost too late. With the rush of stagnant air comes pain, a sharp, knife-like point straight into her head that makes her hands slip, knees give and June finds herself going the same way as her treasure.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Nothing lasts</em>. Even as June wakes up it does.</p>
<p>She only realizes a change because there´s pain and cold and for long moments she seriously takes under consideration that this might be her first time regaining consciousness, that the images presented to her as memories, vague and foreign as they appear, were actually a dream.</p>
<p>It´s possible, even if the impressions of pain and shock and ... other things seem to distinct.</p>
<p>In fact, it´s only the last few moments that appear dreamlike. June almost can´t believe that she, a professional priding herself on being the exact opposite of a simple graverobber, did what she´s apparently done.</p>
<p>Which is destroying history for no tangiable reason. Even worse than for money.</p>
<p>It´s terrible.</p>
<p>It makes her want to fall back asleep.</p>
<p>If any of this, if <em>she</em> ever comes to see the light of day, she´ll blame it on shock and bloodloss, trembling hands and a mind teethering on the edge of panic. Except that it didn´t feel that way.</p>
<p>June´s not scared of the dark, not scared of pain.</p>
<p>It wasn´t like that. Instead there was ... <em>something</em>.</p>
<p>Maybe it´s actual, legitimate exhaustion. Maybe she´s slowly succumb-</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Air, jungle, desire</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>June closes her eyes, at least she thinks she does, takes in a shaky breath.</p>
<p>“Okay.”, she says, out loud, because it doesn´t matter becauses she´s alone except for a set of dusty bones and suddenly feels like if the silence were to continue for but a second she might die on the spot.</p>
<p>She doesn´t voice out how freaky whatever just happened is. If she were to, it would go amongst the lines of <em>“what the ever-living fuck was that?”</em>. In screaming.</p>
<p>But she doesn´t. Because if the series of ... impressions, quick as a singular frame on her laptop, is bound to be in her head. A product of her mind.</p>
<p>June can deal with that, has proven that she can. And while acknowledging it is an option, right now it would only serve to make it ... real and repeat itself. And she really doesn´t need that right now.</p>
<p>Instead she wrestles herself under control, reaches up to her helmet – and finds her hurting fingers entangled in a mat of greasy hair. Her <em>hair</em>. No protective shell, no light.</p>
<p>June doesn´t scream, but wants to. Gone. Somewhere in the absolute darkness around her.</p>
<p>This is, objectively speaking, a nightmare. No longer Tomb Raider but Resident-fucking-Evil. Great. Doesn´t help that she enjoyed playing those games just as much, not at all.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Night, earth, statue</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>“Alright, not cool.”, June whispers.</p>
<p>She refuses to think about why her voice is shaking, why she sounds so fucking timid.</p>
<p>Not cool. Not cool at all.</p>
<p>Not being able to see her own, messed up hands infront of her face, not being able to feel or hear or see anything beyond cold and hurt – not cool.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Wind, trees, freedom</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>June can´t help it and sobs, clasping both of her arms around her head. Can´t actually think because <em>something</em>´s off and she can only hope that it´s herself because if it isn´t ... but if it is ...</p>
<p>Somehow, she manages to drag herself out of it, instincts, something tries to tell her, dreaded fear perhaps, her yearning for survival, whatever it is, it makes her scramble backwards, with hands and fingers sending sharp lances of pain, lungs aching and her legs barely more than two lifeless chunks of flesh and bones attached to her torso. It doesn´t matter because June needs something, <em>anything</em> because-</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Queen, god, power</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>-she might actually die otherwise. Right here, right now.</p>
<p>June can take a lot but doesn´t want to measure up to this. Whatever is is. Trapped inside a helpless body, inside a dark, cold, endless – A wall in her back. Stone. Real stone. Not endless. Just dark and pitch-black.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Prison.</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>June can feel herself shaking at the images - <em>images </em>- that are there for the briefest of moments until they´re not. They don´t feel ... they feel ... foreign. Absolutely, terrifyingly foreign. Not like a delusion, not like a hallucination or a dreamt up escape, nothing her or anyones brain could come up with, not like this. Not li-</p>
<p><em><strong>Human. Blood.</strong></em> <strong><em>Bond.</em></strong></p>
<p>Like this. This is -</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Power. God. Age.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Madness. June can´t feel herself anymore. Can barely hear her own thoughts anymore.</p>
<p>Is she crying? Screaming? Breathing? How is one to tell?</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Death. Human. Prison.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>She finds all pain to be gone. June´s <em>cold</em>,</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Cold. Human. Danger.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>cold all over, feels like she´s made of stone herself.</p>
<p>
  <strong><em>S</em><em>tatue. God. Prison. </em> </strong>
</p>
<p>With the cold comes a strange ... tranquility. The images don´t threaten to overwhelm her anymore, instead there´s an almost childlike wonder at the strangeness of seeing things she shouldn´t, that aren´t there.</p>
<p>June´s dying, she realizes, clear, without doubt and feels ...</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Human. God. Bond.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Amazement, excitement, the same curiosity she´s experienced so often upon stumbling across something new, when there´s a new site, a new book, a new exhibition</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Bond. Help. God.</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Her life. Her passion. It ... hurts, to realize the many possibilities left untaken, the many discoveries yet to make. All of which she´ll never see. She´s lived a somewhat fulfilled life, she supposes. Used to make the hard choice with so many harder ones already in her back, to dedicate it all to a singular, all-consuming purpose instead of giving into what´s been splayed out infront of her.</p>
<p>She doesn´t regret it, doesn´t regret anything, not really, although in hindsight she wishes that she would´ve let loose ever so often. Gave her ... softer side more of a chance. A chance to fall and stay in love, maybe. That´s not June though, never been never was and perhaps never would´ve been but perhaps, maybe she would´ve attempted to ... change her ways, eventually. After she would´ve established herself as more than just a rising star, made “Moone” into a name recognized all over the world.</p>
<p>Or maybe just when she would´ve stumbled into the right girl. At a site, perhaps. An old, very old dream of hers, one that never even came close to be but also never quite faded. June clings to her dreams because at times they are her only reason to keep going.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Death.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>June blinks, thinks she does. Actually, truly pays attention to the flickers because maybe it´s something she needs up ahead. Maybe it matters for whatever is to come. And she always likes to be prepared.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Bond</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>A thin strap of red cloth, tying one hand to another.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>God</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Imagery she knows all too well, carvings etched into stone, a giant snake, sun and moon and others she doesn´t recognize in a mere moment.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Human</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>People, dark skin, hairy, gathered around in an open area plastered with humongously large stones, dressed in rags and pelts. Another age.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Help</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>One hand grasping onto another</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Power</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>A lonesome figure, a shape against the sun, looking down onto the world below.</p>
<p>June thinks about the images, slowly, at what feels like a snails pace, like wading through high, muddy waters but ...</p>
<p>“Yes?”, she breathes outwards, out there, whereever she is, to whatever is or isn´t there.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Yes</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>One word. An echo but ... not quite. Not <em>June´s </em>voice. Not even an actual sound.</p>
<p>“You ...”</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>You</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>“...can...”</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>Can</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>“...help...”</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>Help</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>“...me?”</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>Me.</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Silence. No more images.</p>
<p>June´s almost sure she´s dead although common belief makes her doubt that she could think post-mortem.</p>
<p>She laughs, but doesn´t. Does so in her head or something alike – because she doesn´t hear herself anymore. There´s very little now, without the foreign input. Maybe she´s not quite there yet. Maybe she will be once there´s nothing.</p>
<p>Nothing left, no sound, no breath, no cold, no pain, no thought. She´ll be nothing, like all the others before her. June´s not particularily fond of the idea. There´s always been something for June Moone to cling to. Something new. Something more.</p>
<p><em>You can help me,</em> she thinks.</p>
<p>Or says. An echo. Or not. Real or not. But it´s <em>something</em> and June Moone refuses to fade into non-existance without exploring this last puzzle.</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Bond.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Red cloth.</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>Blood.</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Dark, blackish red dripping lazily into a bowl.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Sacrifice.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>An animal she once knew, cut open on a stone altar.</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>Surrender. Power. Life.</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Two hands, two shapes seemingly melting into one in an act of passion.</p>
<p>June´s bleeding. June´s dying. She doesn´t want to. June wants to <em>know.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Everything.</em>
</p>
<p>June wants to hang onto <em>something</em>. And is torn away from <em>everything</em>. In that last moment, when she feels the borders of herself falling into nothingness and everything that was June Moone is about to follow, there´s <em>something</em> where <em>nothing</em> should be.</p>
<p>June doesn´t know because June doesn´t think because June <em>is not but was</em>, but <strong>it</strong> is there, sharp and real and <strong>Power. Bond. Life.</strong> and it is desperate to not not-be, wants<em> nothing</em> more but <em>June</em> and what <em>was June</em> embraces all of <strong>her</strong>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello again. </p><p>What to put here ... I guess my thoughts on this little project, huh?<br/>I like it. A lot. Pretty much everything about it - which is how it should be - but still.</p><p>Not so much this chapter since it´s basically just setting the stage and a retelling/interpretation of what I´ve always understood as canon and therefore not really my ... strong-suite ( imo ) but ... yeah. It works. Maybe even better to some of you since it´s actual plot and not just ... but you´ll see. Hopefully.</p><p>Safe to say from here on out it´s going slowly onwards - opposite to anything canon or DC or Suicide-Squad or whatever. My construct ontop of a fanfiction-engine I suppose.</p><p>So. Yeah. I hope you enjoy the ... result, even if it´s just a little.</p><p>Also, immense kudos to the brilliant work that´s inspired me actually delving into this ... fandom ( even if it´s not ... whatever ) so go check that out maybe. <br/>And to a million other things, e.g. "Cryo Chamber" for being an immense help / inspiration ( music / darkish ambient ) and ... yeah.<br/>I´m just gonna stop myself here. <br/>Bye! Come again!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">II. <em>Now</em>/<strong>Now</strong>/<em><strong>New</strong></em> </span>
</p>
<p>Saying it´s a surprise that there´s still <em>something</em>, that there´s still ... something to work with, something to put into perspective, something that feels like it´s passed – a while, a moment, years – would be a flat out lie.</p>
<p>But there is. And June´s so startled by the feeling that she´s not even surprised that <em>she</em> still is.</p>
<p>June´s pretty sure that she just – just? – died. “Just” depending on when and where here and now is. She still feels like ... June remembers feeling, at least. Kind of. Although something appears to be off, like she´s ... the thing that she remembers as June has changed. Lost something or grew or ... and ... and the very idea of herself being an ambigious shape, like a ball or a circle or pyramid or something is just ... weird. Because it does feel like it.</p>
<p>Feels like she <em>was</em> a certain something and isn´t quite the same anymore. All of which leads her thoughts back to “if this is not death, what happened?”.</p>
<p>Something´s off. June can´t remember.</p>
<p>Something´s off. June actually can´t ... see or smell or hear or ... <em>Is she dead?</em></p>
<p>Why can she still think? Why is thinking the only thing she can do? Is she ... in a coma? Trapped inside of her mind? Did her body die but her mind didn´t?</p>
<p>Then -"then" being a certain point on a line that might be a circle or a tightrope or anything that June´s a part of - <em>Something</em> ... happens.</p>
<p>Something like ... seeing, but not quite, a flash and something where there was nothing beforehand.</p>
<p>
  <em>A book. Words. Numbers. Letters. Talking. English. French. More.</em>
</p>
<p>Too much to follow. Too many interchanging ... flashes. They trigger ... something. Other than being totally freakish and disturbing. It´s like ... June thinks she might remembers this feeling.</p>
<p>
  <em>Two adults towering over June. June on her own. June on her own. June in pain. Reading. Dreaming. Nights. Books. Lessons. Pain. Learning. Reading. Tension and relief. June on her own, at last. Reading, a room full of children. June on her own. Images of women. More books.</em>
</p>
<p>These are ... are ...</p>
<p>
  <em>Fiction and history. Archeology. Visiting a graveyard and talking to the ground while clinging to herself. June on her own. June and a dream in a house that she hates. June on her own. Nights. Fights. Books. School. ... memories.</em>
</p>
<p>... her, June´s ...</p>
<p>
  <em>Exploring her sexuality. On her own. Moving out, claiming her inheritance and destroying it all the same, being her own person, fighting on her own to do what she wants to do. Studying. College. Degree. Her place in this world or at least what it´s going to be. ... memories, from the very first to the ... most recent site, the excitement, the restlessness, the pull. The dark, the statue, the pain, the death.</em>
</p>
<p>June <em>remembers</em> alongside the images and ... and ... feels like shuddering, screaming, crying but can´t quite. Something´s off alright.</p>
<p>She did die or at least got as close as one could get but ... but ... but what the actual fuck? And why ... what´s ... <em>this</em> then? What -</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>The night. The freedom. The feeling of having a body. The enjoyment of –</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>It stops June – June´s thoughts, her feelings, even – straight in their tracks. Where she could claim every other ... impulse as her own this one isn´t. She just feels it. It feels ... different. Not coming from the thing that´s June now. Vastly different. Freakishly so. Intense. Like it could swallow her whole in it´s ... <strong>power</strong>.</p>
<p>But doesn´t, doesn´t want to because there´s a ... <strong>bond.</strong> Doesn´t because it´s a ... the ... <strong>her?</strong></p>
<p>June knows, no, feels all of it and it´s amazing and strange and scary because she doesn´t <em>actually know</em>. It´s like she´s ... grown another limb. No. It´s probably nothing like that. It´s like she´s grown another <em>mind.</em></p>
<p><strong>Something</strong> moves. Or changes. Hard to tell when there´s nothing but thought and feeling but apparently June was mistaken because apparently she knows nothing at all. She can feel ... more. Feels like there´s ... things happening, things beyond this state, things that are not all that far away but still distant, like how being put into interrogation and just <em>feeling</em> the people on the other side of the mirror felt, how you just <em>feel</em> that you have to do something because you might die otherwise, even if you can´t and so you <em>can</em> because you won´t be able to - just ... <em>something.</em></p>
<p>June´s fascination with the intensity of the feeling keeps the panic at bay. At least, that´s what June figures.</p>
<p>Because the feeling is still there but ... somewhat ... pacified. June´s actually content with just being whatever she is, wherever she is and, for the lack of a better term, <em>listening outwards</em>. Because there are ... things seeping in, like sound through a door or cracks in a wall, light under a blanket, things that don´t belong to her yet are much more ... tangiable now that she pays attention to them.</p>
<p>It makes her feel like spying on a private conversation but the curiosity, the thrill and need of it makes her not doubt her actions. And exciting it is.</p>
<p>Excitement is one of the ... <em>sounds</em> she <em>hears</em>. Feels. Shares.</p>
<p>Excitement is prevelant but it´s like there are other, more subtle noises beneath, hidden, almost. Anger. Sadness. Regret. Pleasure. And the longer June listens the more she picks up on and it´s like the sound opens up into a picture and then the picture gains shape, turns into a womanly figure, pitch black against a bright disk, turns around and –</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Greetings, little moon.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>June ... June ... doesn´t ... stare but ... she doesn´t have eyes or ears and ... but ...</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“My mistake. Hush. Don´t fret. It will be your time in just a moment.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p><strong>It</strong> gazes down at her, somehow, intensely, then turns and ... disappears.</p>
<p>And June´s June, <em>just June</em> and once again there´s nothing where something, the female figure, a voice had been beforehand.</p>
<p>Also, <em>holy fuck</em>, June might´ve just made the jump from dying to going crazy while feeling weirdly ... calm about it.</p>
<p>She´s not even bothered by the vague notion of movement, like sitting in the passenger-seat of a turning car or in a cabin slowly going up a mountain, bouncing in the wind.</p>
<p>Both of those images are strangely fitting since now there´s a door. Or a frame. Or a picture. And as June focuses on it, it appears to grow closer and ...</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“Good. Come. This should help with everything.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>... the voice comes from beyond, from the light and the colours but also from all around June which is totally fucked but June doesn´t care because now she recognizes what she sees as her appartment, the very same she´s bought for herself after at last putting a claim to her - their - fortune, only the second thing she did after hiring-</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Focus.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>And the picture grows, beckons her to come closer with long, cruel fingers that are dark and twisted and - closer and and closer till – June gasps. Pants.</p>
<p>June´s <em>June</em> again, has a body again, is breathing heavy, taking in air without pain, feels like she´s an old woman back on a bicylcle after decades of refusing to ride one.</p>
<p>It´s overwhelming, everything is, from feeling clothes on her body to the air running down her throat, there´s so much sensation and – June doubles over and throws up onto her carpet. She didn´t particularily like it anyway.</p>
<p>The bile feels raw, toxic and throroughly unpleasent. It´s been a few years, June´s gotten rid of a rather nasty drinking habit in her late teenage years and while she´s missed the floaty carelessness, <em>this shit</em> is not something she´s yearned for <em>ever</em>.</p>
<p>At the very least it seems to narrow down her thoughts and feelings to just ... taking it. Outlasting it. Not more than a few seconds, but enough to remind June´s mind of her body and it´s functions, remind her what everything feels like, that it´s <em>not</em> new and overwhelming but instead familiar and comfortable. At least it should be. June knows that now.</p>
<p>Yet it feels ... different. <em>Everything</em> does.</p>
<p>Everything feels weird and for a second, propped up on hands and knees, she doesn´t know how to ... do. How to make her body do what her mind wants and knows it can.</p>
<p>To her immense relief, relief she feels as an actual sensation in her chest, it doesn´t last.</p>
<p>June starts breathing more evenly, her lungs regain their autonomy after years and years of running smoothly and mostly uninterrupted and with that everything else slowly falls back into place.</p>
<p>“What the fuck...”,</p>
<p>June whispers to the floor, the ruddy carpet that´s distinctly <em>her</em> carpet, the one she´s been kind of wanting to replace ever since moving in but was to busy ( read: “lazy” ) to actually get rid of.</p>
<p>Her mouth feels weird. So does the carpet beneath her fingers.</p>
<p>Her fingers ... her fingers look like they´ve been used to form something out of red clay and brown mud. But ...</p>
<p>June feels <strong>amusement</strong> and <strong>curiosity</strong>.</p>
<p>They are not her feelings.</p>
<p>June, <em>June-June</em>, "June-having-just-regained-her-body"-June, June Moone, archeologist, darts into her bathroom, once again breathing like she´s been training for a triathlon, and ends up bent sharply over her sink.</p>
<p>On instinct, she opens the water tap, thrusting her hands beneath. It´s cold. It´s grounding. It´s sobering. It helps.</p>
<p>June remembers all of that while the feelings come and go. The white porcellain takes on a different tone, dark and reddish-brown till it fades into a more pinkish shade. It ... helps.</p>
<p>June stares at it for a bit, simply feeling her hands grow colder and colder till it almost hurts.</p>
<p>
  <em>Her fingers don´t.</em>
</p>
<p>They show traces and rims of red and black but otherwise are June´s and whole and unblemished. Uninjured. And ... June <em>ran</em> into the bathroom.</p>
<p>Realizing that her legs, which she remembers being broken and done for and in desperate need of surgic help in order to work again anytime soon, are indeed functioning again marks the point when she straightens up and turns away.</p>
<p>The water keeps running. June remembers the mirror above the sink.</p>
<p>She doesn´t want to look into it. Instead she steps under her shower and just cracks that tap open as well. Hot, this time. It feels like it´s helping too.</p>
<p>Eventually, she remembers to close the partioning, to save herself a bit of cleaning and the floor and ... for reasons.</p>
<p>At a later point she remembers the clothes now clinging tightly onto her body. The shreds that are left. At least that´s how she remembers it to be.</p>
<p>The water´s clean, clear, thankfully, when she peels them away and just drops everything where she´s standing, into the cabin, water still running, June still having a body, her body, the one she knows and has grown quite fond of over the years, the one that doesn´t show a scrap or mark or scar or broken bone. Not even ... not ... from ...</p>
<p>June, June Moone, up and coming archeologist currently taking the longest shower of her life in her appartment located in Philadelphia, Bakerstreet Nr.21, second floor, bathroom - and most definitely not in the Guatemalan jungle.</p>
<p>Calling June "a bit overwhelmed” is a gross understatement, although thankfully the hot water seems to aid June in her quest to get her mind cleaned up alongside her body.</p>
<p>And after said while she´s almost managed to convince herself that everything she thinks she remembers was a ... <em>construct</em> of her mind alone.</p>
<p>A dream. That she´s yet got to go to a certain site, yet to leave for the airport, that she´s gotten hilariously drunk again, which is why she puked, which is why she´s been in her workwear that´s somehow gotten torn into pieces, why everything felt so weird.</p>
<p>Until, when she´s as far as one like her can get in lying to oneself, slowly begins feeling better, June steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around herself and happens to look into the mirror.</p>
<p>June Moone looks back at her, admittedly somewhat stunning in a mere towel, her blonde mane a wet, tattered mess, skin slightly reddened from the hot water.</p>
<p>“I´m fine” shows cracks at just one look, because Mirror-June doesn´t look like the June she remembers. She looks ... different.</p>
<p>June tilts her head, eyebrows furrowed, like she might do looking at a puzzling piece of ceramic or an array of ancient, worn down scriptures on equally ancient stone.</p>
<p>The other June mirrors her actions. Of course she does. It´s a mirror. It´s <em>June</em>, June! It´s j<em>ust</em> June, June Moone, archeologist extraordinare and nothing more.</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>“Except we both know that you´re lying to yourself.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>It´s ... <strong>her</strong>. <strong>Her</strong> voice. June can <em>hear</em> it despite her ears insisting that there´s nothing but the water continously running into the sink and her own, ragged breaths.</p>
<p>And while her mind knows that June´s face is twisted into a rather gruesome grimace of fright and terror, the June inside the mirror looks at her inquisitively. Expectantly.</p>
<p>The June inside the mirror, the mirror that refuses to cloud over despite the warm air sloshing across the bathroom, the air that June can feel radiating off her body, straightens further and raises an eyebrow.</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>“June?”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Her lips don´t move, but it´s ... <strong>her</strong>. June can <em>feel</em> <strong>her</strong>. <em>Inside her head. Smirking outwards</em>, a feeling both warm and content and –</p>
<p>“Ohmyfuckinggod.”,</p>
<p>June half-screams, half-blurts and makes herself snap away from her non-reflection.</p>
<p>And by god, all the gods there are, June´s going mad because she can feel <strong>her</strong> smile <em>widening from the inside</em>,<em> radiating</em> outwards through the terror like she´s swallowed the sun.</p>
<p>One that´s alive, with teeth and claws and full lips, all of it latched onto June.</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>“Inventive. Rude, ungrateful and blunt but inventive. Something we´ll work on in the future. You are a very pleasent sight though, even compared to others of your time, so I suppose that makes up for your more ... lacklustre attributes.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Madness. June´s gone mad over night and is currently trying to redeem her ever-lacking self-confidence via said madness. Which just complimented as well as insulted her. Perhaps a late symptom of an untreated -</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>“And obnoxiously stubborn. Pity. But I´ll take it. We´ll be getting along just fine in no time, don´t break your little head over it. I will take over for a while now, just to make you see. Consider me warning you up front as a gesture of good faith. Don´t expect any others.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>- no. No! – No! – No – No June anymore.</p>
<p>Wrong. False. Inaccurate.</p>
<p>June´s still <em>there</em>, she´s just ... back. At the back - of the bus. Of herself. Back in the nightmare from earlier, no body, no sensation just ... June and – a window. A glimpse at - things. And June sees and hears and feels ...</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>“Look.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Terror.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Excitement.</strong>
</p>
<p>Madness.</p>
<p>And all of the smaller emotion in between. She does. Because there´s <em>her</em> bathroom, <em>her</em> apartment and yet it isn´t June anymore who´s standing in the midst of her life. This ... that ... can´t be June.</p>
<p>And the longer she keeps looking the less of herself she sees in this ... <strong>thing</strong> until there´s barely any resemblance left.</p>
<p>The less<strong> it</strong> looks like a warped reflection and the more it´s ... something else entirely. Clearly.</p>
<p>For now, <strong>Not-June</strong> seems content just ... being.</p>
<p><strong>Not-June</strong> stares at herself in the mirror alongside June, with June, from within and with June, an unreadable expression on <strong>her</strong> – <strong>her</strong>, not June´s – face.</p>
<p><strong>She</strong>´s as tall as June, as wide as June, shares the same frame yet seems to take up more space.</p>
<p>Way more space.</p>
<p>Like the room, <em>the air itself</em> is forced to stretch around <strong>her</strong> in a way that shouldn´t be, maybe because <strong>she</strong> shouldn´t be.</p>
<p>Like it´s straining to comply, like the space around<strong> her</strong> might burst if <strong>she</strong> was to move a singular muscle.</p>
<p>And where June´s blonde and pale, this one is not, where June´s eyes are of a light, supposedly intense blue, this one´s aren´t.</p>
<p>What stares back at June, at her own reflection, appears to have been dipped into the night´s sky, with long, strainy hair as black as coal, weaving in a breeze that can´t be felt, not in here, not outside underneath the sky, nowhere in this world.</p>
<p>And June can´t help but stare.</p>
<p>Because it looks like a tiny piece of the universe´s darkness has taken shape, taken up a skin that´s not black, not like any colour she can name – but dark, a skin that <em>moves</em> and <em>crawls across</em> the body in shades and shades of <em>dark</em>, some dim, some bright, some shining like it´s owner has swallowed the stars themselves in it´s endless existance.</p>
<p>June can´t help but stare because the thing wearing <em>her</em> towel, the thing wearing <em>her</em> shape and face stares back, at her, with eyes like two black holes frozen in time, each about to swallow the last remaining lights in a galaxy where nothing´s left.</p>
<p>Two tiny dots of brightness. And both are looking at June.</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>“You see, don´t you?”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>June looks. June sees. Because there´s nothing else in this very moment, one that stretches on and on and on, that makes room and time because it is what´s necessary, what this being requires of it.</p>
<p>June takes <strong>it</strong> in because <strong>it</strong> <em>wants her to</em>, all of it.</p>
<p>They both look at the mirror and June can´t see herself anymore. She knows she´s there, somewhere, beneath the surface, a ... foundation of sorts, there in shapes and curves and edges but it seems so ... redundant if what´s built upon it is <strong>this</strong>.</p>
<p>And maybe that´s what <strong>it</strong> truly wants her to see, because those dark lips that are just like June´s but aren´t, that glisten, almost shimmer in a way that´s so clearly beyond all and everything out there, they twist upwards just a little.</p>
<p>With the motion there´s feeling, seeping into June from the outside, a hint of ... something.</p>
<p><strong>It</strong> - <strong>she</strong> is beautiful to a degree that almost hurts to look at.</p>
<p>
  <em><strong>“Good.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Satisfaction. Pride. Pleasure.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Since this is out of the way, there are some things that need to be dealt with. We will do so now.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>´They´ do not.</p>
<p>Instead things proceed – rather predictably so – with June regaining her wits ( which seems like one out of two viable options, the other one being June loosing them forevermore ) and rightfully freaking out about the shadowy woman-thing that has taken over her body.</p>
<p><strong>It</strong> ( <strong>she</strong>? ) does not appreciate that. Although <strong>it ( she )</strong> appears to have some patience for June´s antics, it is not nearly enough in order to allow a human mind the time and space it requires to come to terms with whatever <strong>it ( she )</strong> is, not to mention the fact <em>that</em> <strong>she</strong> is. And has a rather nasty temper.</p>
<p>June´s adjustment-period furthermore transitions into her being isolated in some dark corner of what she can only presume is her own mind turned prison.</p>
<p>The idea sounds horrifying, the experience manages to be worse.</p>
<p>June´s simply left there, feeling like crying, screaming, curling into a tight ball and not being able to do any of it.</p>
<p>It lasts ... a while, although time feels weird, almost as if it didn´t exist in the non-space she´s been put while <strong>she</strong> does god-knows-what out there. With what June can only presume is <em>her</em> body. <em>If</em> it still is.</p>
<p>The uncertainties and unanswered questions which vastly contributed to June´s mind putting a sudden stop to rational thinking and instead focus on freaking out over the overwhelming amount of revelations, they end up being the reason she gets back on track. Somewhat.</p>
<p>Because fuck her, fuck <em>everything</em> if this isn´t some cheap-horror-flick-shit but also utterly fascinating.</p>
<p>And while the horror predictably fades with June in the dark, the curiosity lasts, as it used to, as it always does.</p>
<p>So June waits and ignores her fears, her terror at ... everything.</p>
<p>She´s still here, to some degree, and it appears as if she´ll continue being here for some time.</p>
<p>Because <em>“there are things”</em> and <em>“we will”.</em></p>
<p>´We´, says the thing.</p>
<p>´Says´ – in June´s head, wearing an alienated reflection of June´s face.</p>
<p>Coincidentally - or maybe not for it´s not like June knows anything about sharing a mind with another being - she doesn´t get to think extensively about her situation. Maybe <strong>it</strong> knows or felt it. Maybe not.</p>
<p>Either way, <strong>it</strong>´s <em>there</em>, around the empty space surrounding June, there and looking out of it´s “dying star amidst the void”-eyes.</p>
<p>She can´t see them now, obviously. She doesn´t need to.</p>
<p>June doubts she´ll ever forget the sight. Nobody would, nobody that´s not severly traumatised by something this otherworldly, this stunningly, breathtakingly ... strange.</p>
<p>And apparently she´s not that kind of person, as the memory only makes her feel unprecedented awe and ... small. Like a child that´s ...</p>
<p>There´s no adequate comparisation to be found. Because nothing in this world could come close. Because those eyes, this ... thing, <strong>she</strong> couldn´t come from here. Right?</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>”One might think your race wouldn´t struggle too much with the existance of things beyond your comprehension. Your ancestors managed just fine”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Oh that´s just ... something.</p>
<p>As if a life chasing knowledge hidden deep in the past could´ve <em>come close</em> to preparing June for this shit. As if this was just a new sort of corn born out of whatever laboratory and not ... this. As if <em>anything</em> could´ve <em>possibly</em> prepared <em>anyone</em> for <span class="u">this</span>. Perhaps dealing with the marvels of space. And smoking way, way more than June´s done in her days of chasing academic success.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“I see. At least you did manage to control yourself, at last. And perhaps I myself should ... adjust to the situation, as unpleasent as it might be. A lot appears to have changed, you see?”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>What the fuck is one – June – even supposed to respond to that?</p>
<p>Getting ... vaguely insulted and lectured by something that talks about June´s <em>race </em>like she´s just a brightly coloured bird amidst hundreds of others.</p>
<p>She´s not in any way equipped or prepared to deal with this. Neither her early obsession with reading fiction, nor her late obsession that lead to surrounding herself with actual stories helps even a little bit.</p>
<p>All of that was to ... to not deal with life, mainly. And for entertainment. It doesn´t mean that June wants to be <em>in a story</em>, fictional or not. People read about a lot of shit, flying a plane, cooking, fighting, solving crimes – that doesn´t mean that they´re able to just <em>replicate it</em> like it´s nothing. Because it´s seriously not nothing. But perhaps ... maybe ... June sort-of knows how to <em>deal with things</em>. She didn´t know how-</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“You´re thoughts are a mess.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>And apparently June´s perfectly capable of getting angry at a being of undetermined nature and origin ( not to mention gender although that seems rather unimportant when faced with something that can only be described as an alien ) inside her head.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“You´re feelings are a mess just as much.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Yep. Perfectly capable.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Neither will help improving the situation. Instead, I recommend attempting to focus your mind on something useful. Communication, perhaps. If you´re capable of acchieving such a thing. Perhaps you truly are less of a vessel than I thought. Perhaps this age  and its people are as ... deteriorated as it appears to be upon first glance.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>June´s fucking <em>furious</em>. And annoyed. And perhaps more than a little bit scared still.</p>
<p>And yet there´s ... reason in the words trickling into her space, beneath the aloofness, the weird way they´re put together. Perhaps there´s something else, something June can´t sense, can´t feel but is <em>there</em>, because “I recommend” and ...</p>
<p>Reason. Communication. Something June´s not historically great at, neither at talking nor at wrestling her mind under control since it´s mostly doing it´s own thing but that is in no fucking way related to a “deteriorated” self or being a “lesser vessel” ( a truly, <em>truly</em> unsettling choice of words but June puts it aside for later. For when she´s in ... a better spot. <em>Not</em> locked away with only her thinking and ... the other one. ).</p>
<p>For now ...</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Focus.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>... there´s focus.</p>
<p>June wants to. She wants to be more than a messy heap of emotion and awareness in her mind. She hated it then, she hates it now. She can change it again. She wants to tell this ... <strong>thing</strong> ... what exactly?</p>
<p>Something. That this is not ... cool in any way.</p>
<p>And she wants to know, desperately, desperately want to know more. Everything.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“You need to find me out there, not just spew nonsense into empty space. And though I might find it there, it is very ineffective. Not to mention embaressing. Like an animal. We´re looking for a concentrated, directed string of thought and feeling. A connection. And since it´s already there, all you need to do is to follow it to it´s source.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>What a ridiculous train of thought. Presumptious, even. As if June could just <em>do</em> shit like that. Who knows if humans are even capable of-</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“I do. And you will focus on me now.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Ugh. June feels like a child and it makes her feel things she doesn´t want to. Pushing them away ... helps. To Focus. On ... <strong>it</strong>.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“I prefer the female pronoun. It is what I´ve identified with over the ages. You will adress me as such when you´ve managed to resolve your inability.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p><strong>Her</strong>. ´Her´ then. Happy?</p>
<p>Silence. Though there´s something filling the seemingly empty space, lingering at it´s edges, a shadow different from all the other shadows seemlessly melting into each other. June knows how <strong>she</strong>´s supposed to look. Like June herself, only ... different. June knows her face, her body, has been mesmerized by darkness crawling across <strong>her</strong> ( not June´s ) skin and cosmic light glinting in <strong>her</strong> ( not June´s ) eyes. She even knows <strong>her</strong> voice, somewhat. Or ... the feeling of it.</p>
<p>She´s never <em>heard</em> it, actually.</p>
<p>The feeling of it, however she´s tasted plenty already. Even a few droplets of ... more. Emotions, she thinks. So June thinks back. Remembers. Tries to puzzle the impressions together into a coherent picture and find the shadow, the feelings that fits. And ...</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Well done, little moon.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>It – <strong>she</strong> – feels ... <em>sharper</em> now. More ... everything. A bit overwhelming, even.</p>
<p>As if she´d been looking into the rising sun with toned glasses and only just now taken them off. It´s the same but different. More pronounced.</p>
<p><em>“You ...”</em>, is all June manages.</p>
<p>Rather pathetic for a first contact, <em>real</em> contact, June finds - but whatever. Since she can feel the other ones amazed satisfaction ( and does that mean that it´s intentional, that she´s <em>allowed</em> to feel or not, and does that mean that she could ... <em>filter</em> her output as well and – her mind inside of her mind hurts ) at her triumph, it doesn´t seem to matter all that much.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Yes. Me. How insightful. Since we´ve established a sufficient connection, perhaps it is time for you to experience further enlightened about ... </strong>
    <strong>us</strong>
    <strong>. Does that interest you, June?”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>It does seem like a rather redundant question, for June´s quite certain that <strong>she</strong> knows the answer already. Can maybe, possibly even feel the excitement coursing through June at the prospect of <em>learning</em>, of <em>new</em>, of ... of her predicament, apparently.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“If it does, you´ll tell me. I won´t acknowledge your primal ways of communication any longer.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Ugh.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yes.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Yes what?”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”I want to know.”</em>
</p>
<p>A chuckle, like the harbringer of an earthquake traverses through June´s world.</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“But of course you do. So let me show you.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Show? Wasn´t June supposed to be <em>told</em> ab-</p>
<p>Just as she´s about to form her thought into a coherent string, June is stopped dead in her tracks. Or rather, her consciousness is. Because whereever she was beforehand, she´s not there anymore.</p>
<p>Things have ... changed. Almost unnoticably, but somehow June feels ... <em>something</em> out there in the dark. And yet it´s almost like it´s -</p>
<p><em><strong>“Not real. Well done. But just wait and you´ll be able to make sense of it soon enough, I´m sure.”</strong></em>,</p>
<p>her voice chimes in, sultry and rolling and sounding, tasting as dark as everything else around them.</p>
<p>And before June can think about how that changed as well, how it´s different now, closer and yet not coming from a singular direction, other things take shape around her.</p>
<p>It was dark – but now it is no longer. Instead there´s varying degrees of light and ... shapes. Long ones, circular ones, oval ones, a nearly endless sea of them.</p>
<p>It takes her a moment but June does eventually realize that she´s looking at a forest, undergrowth as well as trees larger than almost anywhere in the world, certainly larger than any she´s seen herself.</p>
<p>And Jun finds herself ... <em>moving</em> through it all? Is she? Whether it´s running, jumping, flying ... the movement itself seems irratic, jumpy, like pictures clasped onto one another without any understanding of sense and direction.</p>
<p>It´s utterly weird, disorienting and ... almost enough to make June forget that she´s not here or there but elsewhere, not traversing through an unknown forest looking for god knows what but instead a mere passenger.</p>
<p><em>“What is this?”</em>, she thinks outwards, hoping to be heard because she feels her out there, somewhere, around. Because she wonders.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“A memory.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Oh. That´s ...</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“My first one.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>There´s an emotion in <strong>her</strong> words, one June can´t get a grip on but it´s not ... pretty.</p>
<p>It doesn´t feel that way. Melancholy, perhaps. Or sadness. Something that lingers and weighs heavy on the images June feels herself skipping alongside with.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“We can skip over the first period, I suppose. No need to witness it in it´s entirety.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>And what does that mean? Period? Doing ... what? Traversing a forest? Where are they? Mesoamerica? Africa? <em>When</em> are they? Why all this ...</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Where and when. Right now it is what might grow into your home once upon a time. I do not know, neither does it matter. Because in reality, it´s everywhere. You´d see, if you were to pay attention. And when ... you´ll come to see that too.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>And June sees. Planes, an endless sea of grass, the ocean itself, majestic in it´s fullness, dried out landscapes littered with black rocks as well as ones in white and orange and –</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“These you might recognize.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Animals, large and wooly, tusk-bearing and surreal in size and aren´t those-</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“And these. These are of much greater importance.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>-smaller ones. Ape-ish in appearance, hobbling forward on legs and hands and –</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“It´s embaressing, truly. I don´t enjoy reliving this ... period. To acknowledge that I was once fascinated by this primal state of evolution, that I was forced to learn from these ... things.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>-<em>evolving</em>. Skipping. Upwards, taller, <em>growth</em>, bones forged into shape by time and necessity and nature. Bones and flesh and <em>minds</em>. Tools and food and hunt. Much more-</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Fitting. Indeed. Still rather disgusting but it worked. Briefly. Barely more than a few moments, drops in the ocean. I learned a few things at least. So did they. It was ... an improvement, far from optimal but ... better.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Throwing a spear. Weilding an axe in a hand that was not made for it but did so regardless simply because <strong>she</strong> wanted it to. Too much hair. Still too much like an animal but ... better. The feeling of both wrong and right. Others staring at the black apparation in their midst. Till it ( <strong>she, the vessel, the body, the bond</strong> ) eventually, inevitably gave and everything that was <strong>her</strong> magnificence vanished once again.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Unpleasent, truth be told. Like putting on a dress that´s in tatters, smelly and altogether revolting. I preferred nothing to that feeling for a while.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Nothing. For a while. Just images, impressions, the occasional form of a beast or a landscape that made a lasting impression, didn´t quite get lost in the raw amount of <em>being</em> until there´s that idea again, the idea that –</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Perhaps it was time. So, I started looking again. As it turned out, my dear apes had spread out a surprising amount and changed alongside their surroundings.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Differences. In growth, hair, shape, size. Differences in their state of being. Some further, closer, more fitting, some less so. Understanding the differences. Seeing for herself. Chasing down the ones that promised the best -</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Fit. A thought that stuck with me. The best, the most evolved. The most ... like me. And we both know where civilization, true civilization bloomed, don´t we?”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>The best fit. <em>The best fit</em>. It sticks indeed, echoes over -</p>
<p>
  <em>skin that´s dark but not muddy, not hairy like an ape but ... different. Better - Long hair. Dark. Black, almost. Wider hips. Breasts. Swaying ... swaying ... fitting. Something akin to attraction, to want instead of interest. Not just learning anymore. Much better. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong> “I´ll admit to not knowing why. But every time I tried a male it was as if I´d attempted to slip into a strangers shoe. They feel ... different. Wrong. They work but they don´t ... last.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>A corpse. Another. Another. Another attempt. The perfect fit. The perfect fit. The perfect fit. <em>The perfect fit. Not one of those.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“They all tried to ... assist me, of course. Made me from a myth into their goddess into their empress. It was both enjoyable as well as distracting.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Corpses. The enjoyment of using ones skin and then discarding it. Moving onto the next one, not caring whether it suited her beyond the thrill. The next willing one. <em>Everyone is</em>. <em>Everyone</em> wants to <em>serve</em> their god-empress. Everyone wants to be her, be with her, if only for a while. Noone dares dispute her rule, not with her so obviously different, so much like their gods in the things that she does.</p>
<p>The willing, the bending get rewarded beyond belief. The culture blooms. The empire grows. So does the pile of corpses. Of not-quite-right but enjoyable. Of pleasurably-alive-temporary-but not-right. Not even close.</p>
<p>They come, they bend, they die. Eventually.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Rather ugly in your eyes. I see that. Ugly but ... pleasurable. It never seized to amaze me. Your ability to experience ... sensation.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Power. Worship. Feeling ... right.</em>
</p>
<p>But it never lasts for more than a brief moment.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“I wanted you to see. Me. Who I was. Who I am. Then I was a goddess wearing people like scarves, weilding enough power to easily make or break an empire as well as it´s people. Power over life and death and all things in between.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Power. Corpses. Nature. Darkness. Decay.</em>
</p>
<p><em>“And now?”</em>, June asks or thinks, she´s not sure anymore.</p>
<p>Not when she´s just seen – witnessed – <em>felt</em> – history and what goes way beyond. Fiction. Magic.</p>
<p>Darkness. Silence. For a while.</p>
<p>So long that June thinks she´s been left to her own devices, now that she´s learned her lesson. Which was ... what exactly?</p>
<p>Realizing what she´s dealing with here? A supposedely ancient ... being? Which might just be a fucking lie. Everything. Although it didn´t-</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Now. Now I´m </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>your</strong>
  <em>
    <strong> goddess. And </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>you</strong>
  <em>
    <strong> belong to </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>me</strong>
  <em>
    <strong>, just as they did.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p><strong>Her</strong> voice tears through the darkness, tears it into meaningless, dusty pieces and thrusts June into the light beyond.</p>
<p>June Moone opens her eyes and gasps for air. Because words, <strong>her</strong> voice, keeps lingering in June´s mind like a thunderstorm, a force that rips and tears and <em>lasts</em> because -</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Because I´ll be here, somewhere, someone, after you´ve long faded. You however ... you´ll </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>die</strong>
  <em>
    <strong> the moment I decide to leave, little moon. Little June. June Moone, this is your ´now´. </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>I am</strong>
  <em>
    <strong>. Enjoy it, for as long as it may last.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright. Editing takes forever but actually has the benefit of fine-tuning shit AGAIN. <br/>Which is sweet I guess. <br/>Either way, I like this one. Pretty much everything about it ( despite not much actually happening ). <br/>So yeah. Hopefully you agree. I´ll be aiming to add one chapter a day every day till Ch. 6 and afterwards it will slow down TREMENDOUSLY. Like ... an update every 2-3 weeks-tremendously. Fucking very little time and shit. We´ll see though.</p>
<p>Either way, have a good time reading, good time living, bb.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">III. A Day/<strong>Night</strong>/<em><strong>mare</strong></em></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>June ... June ... June´s ... <em>something</em>, now.</p>
<p>Something tired, something nervous, something scared, something excited. Something in between all those and more.</p>
<p>June takes her time before leaving the relative safety of her bathroom, takes another shower, takes care of her hair and body, takes care not to look at her reflection again.</p>
<p>It is quiet, meaning it´s just as quiet as it´s supposed to be. The regular sort. The “no noise out of the ordinary”-sort. Yet it is unnerving, because while there´s nothing moving, nothing whispering, nothing scraping at the edges of her self, June swears she can <em>feel</em> <strong>her</strong>. Catches glimpses at emotions, like colours, bleeding into June´s world.</p>
<p>It´s not though. <em>June´s</em> world. Not anymore. Not entirely. Not her world anymore. Not her body anymore. Not her life anymore? Never to be again. Not until she dies.</p>
<p>June - she trembles and shakes and feels like her time might´ve come already - for a while, till her body has nothing more to give and she feels slightly less dreadful. Just ... weak and exhausted. At least the thing inside her gives her that. Or rather allows it without interfering, which makes June wonder whether she´s supposed to feel grateful, whether she´s receiving a small gift or ... not.</p>
<p>Probably not. <strong>She</strong> might not care at all. It is <em>tollerated</em>, she supposes. June being June and having ... emotions of her own. Being a human and all that. June can´t quite bring herself to feel thankful for it but is somewhat aware of the possible implications.</p>
<p>Awareness brings some much needed clarity into her thoughts which of course leads to June structuring and compartmentalizing the situation at hand, just like she´d do before writing an essay.</p>
<p>And oh wonder, there even is the tempation to take notes but that would be just ridiculous and – yeah, she´s not putting down shit on “being posessed by a primordial being”.</p>
<p>She´ll have to make do in her head, even despite the risk of these “notes” getting peeked on. Something she´s despised in the earlier days of her educational journey and which now bears an entirely new level of discomfort. Thoughts getting spied upon. Could she actually ... recognize that, her privacy being breached? Could she ... <em>shield</em> her mind?</p>
<p>Something to look into, definetly. Amongst a million other things. In truth, June really, really <em>craves</em> a good old listing. In truth, June realizes that something´s happening to or in her brain that makes her jump from a shaky, unstable mess to handling the very information that triggered her like it´s presented on an i-pad.</p>
<p>She can´t bring herself to care all that much. June has some rather ... unusual stuff to attempt and figure out. Beginning with the hopefully easiest task, the clue most at hand – <em>herself.</em></p>
<p>Right. Whilst paying much more attention to her inner workings than she usually does ( carefully navigating around the newly potruding edges and reopened scars ), June throws on some actual, clean clothes, underwear, a comfortable set of slacks and a hoodie before she returns to the bathroom. Takes a deep breath and looks back into the mirror.</p>
<p>And there she is. June Moone. Slightly disshelved but undoubtably June. Nothing else happens.</p>
<p>There´s no sensation of movement or activity - just the general sense that something´s <em>off</em>, like the feeling of being watched by another set of eyes but ... different. Probably because it´s from the inside. Or, just as likely, because it´s nothing anyone should ever feel, like no thing is supposed to feel. Ever. Well. No matter.</p>
<p>It is time to be daring, to add defined edges and shapes to the situation at hand instead of the foggy, mystical imagery that she´s been left with.</p>
<p>June stares into the pale blue of her eyes and <em>thinks</em>. Really, really hard.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hello?”</em>
</p>
<p>She almost blushes at the somewhat embarrassing approach but there´s just no way June´s going to be anything but timid towards the thing inside of her – the thing that claims to be the singular reason for June still being allive.</p>
<p>Which – as much as she dreads the thought – somewhat makes sense. In a very ... non-natural way.</p>
<p>Because June <em>does</em> remember things, even if it´s a struggle. Like dying, kind of. Or at least she´s close to the memory. Dying and ... other things that refuse to come forth, as unclear as everything around the entity inside of her seems to be. Undefinable right now but <em>there</em>. Like the fucking <strong><em>thing</em></strong> attached to her refusing to answer.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hello?”</em>
</p>
<p>June tries again which is certainly not easy, not with the messy state her mind´s at. There absolutely needs to be a list at some point, maybe even a bloody mindmap or flipchart or <em>something</em> tangiable, something to put things into an order. But first there needs to be focus.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Please? Talk ... back?”</em>
</p>
<p>And at last <em>something</em> moves, which June´s prepared for mentally, which she provoked and intended but as it turns out it still feels utterly gut-wrenching to her in it´s strangeness. <strong>She</strong> does.</p>
<p>Because just like that <strong>she</strong>´s here again.</p>
<p>“<em><strong>Yes?”</strong></em> </p>
<hr/>
<p>It is so much in here.</p>
<p>She´s gotten used to it, of course, like she´s gotten used to <em>being</em> instead of not-being, to breathing instead of not-needing to, to more than just her.</p>
<p>Of course she has. It doesn´t mean that the sheer amount of new information isn´t overwhelming.</p>
<p>It doesn´t mean that the complexity of this one´s mind isn´t surprising.</p>
<p>It doesn´t mean she´s comfortable yet.</p>
<p>It´s just so much. So much to rifle through, so much to take in, so much to learn.</p>
<p>A lot of it is ... <em>potential,</em> cleary, once she´ll have her mind wrapped around it. The world is ... larger now. Grown, like a being of it´s own. Unsurprising but startling in it´s degree.</p>
<p>The human race ... a very similar development. It has ... grown. <em>Evolved</em>. Towards a state that´s almost worrisome, if this one´s mind is to be taken as a representative sample. Appearing very much ... <em>equal</em> to her in some ways.</p>
<p>Except that it is ridiculous and therefore bound to be nonsensical, born out of an overwhelming mass of input after - yes.</p>
<p>The world is bigger, blown out of proportion, distorted, almost. She´s not sure what to think about that just yet, something this particular piece shares with many things on her mind.</p>
<p>Humanity has grown. It is ... <em>more</em>, now. More ... independant. Or self-dependant, rather. Their gods, religion, even the earth itself has lost it´s importance. Mankind is taking care of it´s needs themselves.</p>
<p>Curious. Concerning. No matter. She will make room for herself in this world. Once everything has ... settled. Once scores have been evened out.</p>
<p>It is a lot. This one is barely comparable to the units of the past. This one feels ... different. Stronger. Much more ... cleanly cut and less like a moldable lump of clay.</p>
<p>This one might pose a challenge. This one speaks and thinks and acts and learns and <em>knows</em>. A lot. It even <em>looks</em> different. She´s not sure about that either, although ...</p>
<p>It calls itself “June Moone”. Interesting. It is ... interesting. Perhaps more so than a mayority of it´s species, it´s generation. It appears to be both smarter and more ... more ... <em>relatable</em> than others. Surely a suitable vessel once it´s been broken in.</p>
<p>The opportunities at hand ... it´s ... thrilling. It will have to wait. There are things to be taken care of first. Of the mind. This one´s and her own. She needs to <em>understand</em> it in order to impose her will.</p>
<p>Because things have clearly changed in her ... absence.</p>
<p>Just as things will change now that she´s back.</p>
<p>She just needs to <em>understand them</em>. To ... learn, catch up,<em> truly</em> catch up for the first time in her existance.</p>
<p>She can´t wait. Almost. Then she remembers that she´s got time on her side and only feels the pure joy of anticipation.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>When she first hears the voice intruding into the cosmos of herself, it is a surprise. Because she didn´t intend it to. Because it didn´t use to work that way.</p>
<p>Because she was too much for her vessels to comprehend, to get a grip on, too strange, too intimidating. Too strong.</p>
<p>This is new, thought-provocing and –</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hello?”</em>
</p>
<p>-annoying. Like a rat having snuck into the corn chambers, a spy at court. It shouldn´t be here. <em>She</em> shouldn´t. And while she could lock her vessel out – or in – whenever she puts her mind to it, the fact that a certain amount of effort would be required is frankly unnerving.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Please? Talk ... back?”</em>
</p>
<p>Effort she can´t muster up quite yet. Language. Movement. A body. A new world. There is so much to handle all at once that wrestling for pesky shards of control with her vessels seems ... irrelevant for now.</p>
<p>It is not like any of this will do actual damage. Or could.</p>
<p>It is just curiosity and fear, something she understands at least partially. It might be that she didn´t <em>do</em> enough earlier. Perhaps there´s need for more. Interaction.</p>
<p>Quite curious. It doesn´t seem like a reaction that would be very ... common, even amongst this new breed. Yet here it is.</p>
<p>June Moone. Here. Hard-edged and clear-cut, like a shadow against the sun.</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Yes?”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Worth indulging. Worth figuring out. For now.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I have questions.”</em>
</p>
<p>Daring. Courageously charging forward against all odds, against the fear, against an overwhelmingly superior opponent. How very ... refreshing. Honest. Different.</p>
<p>She used to enjoy the honest ones, back then. Only then they were decisively less ...</p>
<p>
  <strong>“I am aware.”</strong>
</p>
<p>Of course she is. How could she not be? Does this one expect to be able to hide itself, even the smallest part from her gaze? Perhaps.</p>
<p>Perhaps June Moone still lacks comprehension, lacks knowledge – <em>yes</em>. There it is. Knowledge. A <em>need</em>. It is ... understandable. Enough to forgive the daunting gush of annoyance flooding in. It´s almost endearing.</p>
<p>How long has it been since someone felt anything of the sorts for her? Anything other than devotion and obedience ...</p>
<p>She tries to recall, stumbles and fails. Not her memory, never, but – it must have simply never been the case. Her vessels didn´t use to feel a whole lot. They lacked in ... everything.</p>
<p>Other than fear and submission.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I want answers.”</em>
</p>
<p>Certainly not this one. This one shares their fear, shares their race and gender but everything else? Everything else differs so, so much. She finds it quite exhilarating, all that ... input flooding straight into her being.</p>
<p>The anger, the annoyance, the fear and the curiosity and ... and ... it is something to explore. For what else is this one capable of? What different <em>tastes</em> does June Moone have to offer? What does this one have to offer that she´s not experienced yet?</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Of course you do.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>It wouldn´t do to simply give into such feeble demands. Of course not. Everything has to be earned, now that she´s given her vessel a new chance at life.</p>
<p>It is a give and take, where she´s already given and is now due to take.</p>
<p>Naturally.</p>
<p>And she is content to take what this one´s currently offering aplenty.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Are you going to answer them or not?”</em>
</p>
<p>For now.</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Ask and you shall see.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>No. It certainly wouldn´t do to keep on giving. This is much more preferable. And while she once never would have considered endulging in her vessels demands – only on the rarest of occasions – this situation may require a different approach, at least to begin with.</p>
<p>
  <em>“What do you want?” </em>
</p>
<p>Even more so because feigningly giving creates endless opportunity to paint a picture to her liking onto the canvas that´s June Moone.</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“You will see once we set eyes upon it.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>In addition to coaxing more thrilling emotions out of her vessel. This first one is not a bad question, as much as her answer is neither an answer nor a lie.</p>
<p>She doesn´t quite know. Yet.</p>
<p>She believes she will – once she sets eyes - June´s eyes - upon it.</p>
<p>“<em>What are you doing? Right now? When you´re not ... out?”</em></p>
<p>This one manages to control her emotions rather well for the sake of continuing on her quest.</p>
<p>Admirable.</p>
<p>It is enough to dismiss the temptation of prodding and annoying the human and instead take her time to think over her reaction. How much can she reveal? Everything. How much would be wise? Wrong question. How much makes <em>sense</em>?</p>
<p>It seems advisable to not enanger her vessel too much, not at this state of uncertainty and new beginnings. The idea to start off on more or less amicable terms is much more appealing. As a ... <em>tribute</em> to older days. Days long gone. Perhaps she´ll come to miss them, in time. Miss the fact that there´ve been rows of women willing to end their own existance in order to grant her a fresh one. No coincidental deaths, no randomness, no reluctance. Not since a long, long time.</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Learning.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>Silence. Curious. She´s tempted to reach out in order to get a better grasp on the intricate details of the ongoing reaction but resists. She can always do so later.</p>
<p>
  <em>“About what?”</em>
</p>
<p>The speed at which she gets reengaged on is surprising. The human mind appears to have evolved a fair bit. Her vessel ... she might be one of the brighter ones. It makes her ... proud, almost. Content, for certain.</p>
<p>
  <strong><em>“Everything.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>This time she follows her answer and is amazed at what she sees. This mind <em>understands</em>. June´s mind draws conclusions, the correct ones, with a mere two words as clues.</p>
<p>June thinks about where she´s found <strong>her</strong>, <em>how</em> it came to happen. June thinks about what she believes to know about the past and the present. Compares it and –</p>
<p>
  <em>“Stay out of my head!”</em>
</p>
<p>She can´t help but laugh at her vessel lashing out at her. It is very much endearing, like a child stomping it´s foot.</p>
<p>She complies, of course, but only after leaving behind an impression of her amusement as well as her amazed pride at June´s advanced abilities.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I can think for myself, thank you very much.”</em>
</p>
<p>Pridefully facing her. Another thing that´s new.</p>
<p>
  <em>“And stop ... doing that. The ... that. My thoughts are – should be my own.”</em>
</p>
<p>A ridiculous impression, yet she keeps her amusement to herself. It can´t hurt leaving her vessel in the dark for as long as possible. It can´t hurt to allow June this sense of ... <em>"privacy"</em> and self that appears to be so important to her.</p>
<p>Of course June Moone´s thoughts are hers and hers alone. For as long as she doesn´t desire otherwise. For as long as they stay second to hers.</p>
<p>
  <strong><em>“Did you not intend to riddle me with your questions?”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>There´s hesitation, insecurity and fear but in the end curiosity ends up overwhelming all of it.</p>
<p>Unusual. She´s used to fear being that much more powerful. Perhaps another thing that has changed more dramatically than she thought. Perhaps mankind has gotten used to not fearing the dark, the unknown anymore. Have ... forgotten, instincts being dulled overtime.</p>
<p>She´ll gladly remind them. Or maybe it´s just something specific to her human.</p>
<p><em>“Yes. I ... how fast do you learn? And how does it work? How do </em>you<em> work? What are-“</em></p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“Stop.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>She doesn´t stop, <em>actually</em> stop June, not yet, doesn´t impose her will.</p>
<p>Not yet. Just ... tells her to. It works. She´s faszinated. June´s mind is a fast-working one yet unable to control itself. There´s bound to be information on it somewhere, information she´s not tended to yet, information on humanity that she needs to catch up on urgently.</p>
<p>She needs time and peace and quiet. Not her vessel asking questions of her own that resemble hers to a rather disturbing degree. Not now. Especially not when she doesn´t know. It is not enjoyable, not knowing.</p>
<p>She´s not used to it.</p>
<p>She´ll ensure never falling victim to such a feeling ever again soon enough.</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“I know what you know. Now, it´s pieces. Eventually it will be everything.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“So she didn´t know how to ... that is why ... pictures and feelings instead."</em>
</p>
<p>Her vessel does not intend to voice her thoughts, yet they´re as clear to her as they can be. It is like witnessing a vivid discussion, seperated by a piece of cloth.</p>
<p>Yes, June understands. A bit too much, a bit too fast. She needs to keep her even further in the dark than she´d thought previously. Because while there´s no real danger in June understanding everything, not without <em>knowing</em> everything and there´s simply no way that she could - and yet ...</p>
<p>It is ... disturbing her. She doesn´t like it. She´ll get rid of that feeling too.</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>“There will be more time for questions later. Now, I need to rest. I suggest you do the same.”</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>She needs to tilt the world as well as her human to her liking. Needs to know and understand both in order to do so.</p>
<p>And her vessel resting is exactly what she needs.</p>
<p>Just <em>her</em> mind at work and June Moone´s defenseless and placid. A perfect state, one June might comprehend eventually - but for now? For now, her body´s tired and her mind´s just catching up.</p>
<p>At least that part of human biology didn´t change. They live. They drink. They eat. They get tired. They rest.</p>
<p>She does not. So what is she? Smart enough to not ask question there´s no answer to. Not human. Unlike anything else. At least that´s what she´d thought. This age ... this age might require revisiting large chunks of her ... ideas.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Alright.”</em>
</p>
<p>There´s just so much out there. So much June doesn´t know, <em>so much she doesn´t know</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You ... you´ll leave me alone then? While I´m sleeping? No ... nightmares or pulling some other shit?”</em>
</p>
<p>Scared. Adorable. Scared of things not real when reality could prove to be so much more terrifying. Oblivious after all.</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“Of course. No nightmares.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>It´s not even a lie. Bad dreams wouldn´t serve her purposes at all. She´ll dismiss those coming up.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Alright. Uhm. Bye then.”</em>
</p>
<p>Her vessel´s tired. It appears to make her much more complacent. It shows, once June settles down.</p>
<p>Adorable, almost, witnessing such a different mind then she´s used to relaxing and slowing down alongside it´s body.</p>
<p>But there´s work to do. There´s a world out there and in order to put her stamp on it, first she needs to do so with her human´s head.</p>
<p>She gets to it with a feverish energy and a long-lost, almost forgotten thrill coursing through the entirety of her being.</p>
<p>June falls asleep exhausted in her own bed. There are no nightmares. <strong>Her</strong> rampaging around in June´s head is keeping them at bay with ease.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright.</p>
<p>Not much to say tbh. Probably since there´s not a whole lot happening in this one ( just more setup and shit ) but I feel like it still ... matters enough, really.<br/>This is after all largely about two very different beings and worlds colliding and ... their reactions, really. <br/>What happens afterwards obviously happens AFTERWARDS. And along the way. <br/>But first we have to get the cojoined engine started. <br/>Vroom-fucking-vroom.</p>
<p>Might be stuttering a bit to begin with.<br/>Hope it´s still ... something. Something worthwhile ... *chuckles*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick warning. This is a bit darker and a bit longer and while I don´t want to spoil anything ... well, you´ve been warned.<br/>Nothing too bad considering the other stuff that´s out there and that I find myself ... not enjoying, not that but ... well, idk.<br/>It´s a part of it, deal with it. It matters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">IV. learning/lessons/<em>learned</em></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When June wakes up she feels like she´s been mauled by a bear.</p>
<p>Not that she´s ever been exposed to that particular treatment but still.</p>
<p><em>This</em> is, without a doubt, the worst she´s ever felt at after a night´s rest.</p>
<p>Or passing out.</p>
<p>And that includes a phase of wild, uninhibited drinking that came too early and left barely in the knack of time.</p>
<p>June´s head throbbs and her body aches all over despite having been in decent shape for years now – product of both diet and excersize in order to ensure that June emphasizes the best while cutting the worst of herself down to an inevitable minimum, both physically as well as mentally.</p>
<p>It doesn´t help June still feeling like shit - to a degree that turning around and sleeping off whatever <em>this</em> is appears like a very tempting, a very, <em>very</em> tempting option – till she recognizes the copious amounts of sunlight tearing into her bedroom like spears of lightning, illuminating her covers, her room, her being ... here.</p>
<p>June remembers and feels even worse.</p>
<p>“Fuck.”, she mutters because it fits this situation more than anything else she can come up with on the fly.</p>
<p>She´s not a particularily vulgar person, usually holds herself with a certain cool, distanced grace ( like she always did, like she probably always will because there are things that simply don´t change over time ) but when there´s nobody else around but her, well, June does have another side to her, just like everyone does. If a bit more ... extreme, perhaps.</p>
<p>And now saying that works in more than just one way.</p>
<p>Now, somebody else is always around.</p>
<p><em>“Fucking hell.”</em>, she adds, just because.</p>
<p>There´s no reaction. Of course.</p>
<p>“What the fuck is this?”, June half-grumbles, half mutters out into the world.</p>
<p>She waits and waits and just lies there in agony till she´s not sure anymore whether anything she remembers is an actual memory or not.</p>
<p>After questioning her sanity and temporarily dismissing any doubt exceeding the usual margin, she proceeds to question whether the thing inside of her can physically <em>hear</em> her talking, which wouldn´t make any sense, however, <em>none</em> of this does.</p>
<p>Literally not a singular thing.</p>
<p>Still no answer, no voice, no movement.</p>
<p>Might be insanity after all, despite every single part of her insisting that it´s not.</p>
<p>And since she can think pretty clearly – it just hurts to do so – that should mean ... something.</p>
<p>Right? June should be able to distinguish a hangover from ... this.</p>
<p><em>This</em> feels different. Physically strained. Worn out.</p>
<p>And there´s a certain suspicion that goes along with the feeling, one she dreads and fears and that fills her with rage.</p>
<p>She has to find out. Somehow.</p>
<p>And something tells her that outright asking ( <em>thinking</em> but alas ) “<em>hey did you happen to slip into my skin and fuck me up last night”</em>  would neither be the smart, nor the most efficient way to proceed.</p>
<p>Therefore it´s slow and methodical all the way, just the way she likes it.</p>
<p>Well. About <em>that</em> ... that ... June´s mind works in mysterious ways.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She ends up starting the day like many, many others beforehand.</p>
<p>Goes to the bathroom, allows her body and mind to adjust to being awake under the shower, takes her time, brushes her teeth, falls into a familiar routine of self-care infront of the mirror.</p>
<p>It starts well enough - apart from continuously feeling like shit in the most ominous of ways.</p>
<p>The cold water helps a little, from the outside as well as the inside.</p>
<p>Stepping out of the shower, into a towel and facing the mirror however ... she´s not gotten used to this version of herself just yet.</p>
<p><em>Mirror-June</em> looks tired, yes, but apart from that appears almost ... radiant.</p>
<p>Her hair´s wet and tangled, still the shade of dirty-blonde she´s always wished was a little brighter except now there´s this thing where everything looks – and <em>feels</em> – different.</p>
<p>Stronger. Better.</p>
<p>And June swears it´s not all in her head, it can´t be, not with not a single strand of hair falling victim to her insistant brushing, not with her skin <em>not </em>screaming for the various pots and kettles of conditioner and make-up for the first time in forever.</p>
<p>Everything´s as flawless as June Moone could possibly be. There are no scars. None that June can see.</p>
<p>It´s a dream, except that it´s not, because it shouldn´t be like this.</p>
<p>June´s body has no right to just ... jump from “death” to “optimal” over night, no right to just dismiss everything that was a part of her through most of her life, mistakes and flaws and scars and everything.</p>
<p>It´s bound to be connected to the thing inside of her and that is neither natural nor a dream.</p>
<p>The opposite, rather.</p>
<p>It – <strong>she </strong>- is changing her, June´s sure of it. And that makes her feel horror instead of amazement.</p>
<p>Because if <strong>she</strong> can – if <strong>she</strong> just did whatever this is, who´s telling June that <strong>she</strong> doesn´t, has not already done more?</p>
<p>June needs to visit a doctor.</p>
<p>June also needs to figure out something else that´s been on her mind ever so briefly and is now reemerging, face to face with this ... version of herself.</p>
<p>She opens a cupboard and reaches for the small box filled with everything related to keeping her nails and hair in check. Looking at the small pair of scissors, the ones she´s probably reached for over a hundred times without a single incident feels different now.</p>
<p>The metal is cold against her fingers. The edge is cold against her skin.</p>
<p>Cold and sharp, not even remotely threatening in it´s size but –</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“Go ahead. See what happens.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>June flinches. Her reaction leaves a small scrape behind, a singular droplet of blood oozing out.</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“Excuse me. Although this is what you wanted, isn´t it?”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>June doesn´t bother responding, too preocupied by the tiny wound she´s inflicted on herself.</p>
<p>Her blood´s still red, still flowing, her skin very much vulnerable.</p>
<p>She still feels pain. She doesn´t mind it at all.</p>
<p>It´s a relief, pulsing and radiating outwards from her finger, it´s June still being June for the most part, not ... something else, not filled to the brim with a moving, thinking blackness.</p>
<p>Still herself.</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“Yes. How very relieving indeed.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>It comes across as almost sarcastic in nature. For the first time.</p>
<p>Maybe <strong>she</strong>´s learned sarcasm overnight. It´s not out of the realm of possibility. Maybe June´s just more attentive or attuned to the frequency.</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“If I might, I would recommend restraining yourself from similar experiments without my explicit consent. I might not take too kindly to you showing initiative the next time. This once, however, allow me to demonstrate.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>Before June can think of a reply of any kind, before she can make up her mind in any way, <em>something</em> happens to her.</p>
<p>It feels like being struck by goosebumbs, a wave of something rolling down her arm, only it doesn´t stop at her hand, instead the sensation increases in intensity till it <em>does</em> make all the small hairs stand on attention and culminates as a both hot and cold rushing sensation in her hurt finger.</p>
<p>And June knows what she wanted to know.</p>
<p>She doesn´t even need to rid herself of the bit of blood to be certain but sticks her finger into her mouth and cleans it off either way, on instinct alone.</p>
<p>There´s nothing beneath, no scrape, no cut, no fresh blood. June´s skin is virtually flawless, probably down to every single cell.</p>
<p>Of course.</p>
<p>Her body is tingling all over the place because June knows that she´s just experienced something beyond her. <em>Magic</em>, she can´t help but think, can´t help the awe radiating through her self, awe and dread because while it´s not black goo, it´s certainly not June and the fact that she´s just lost another right to herself, the right to feel pain and get scared and learn from it is ... it´s both, honestly. Awe and dread-inspiring. Just like <strong>her. </strong></p>
<p>
  <em>“<strong>Now that you´ve satisfied you´re idle curiosity, let me reiterrate. </strong></em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>You died. Your spirit had left your body and it was as dead as it can be. </em> </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>You, dearest June, live through me and me alone, through my will and power. </em> </strong>
</p>
<p><strong> <em>You live </em> </strong> <strong>for me<em>. You </em>are<em> mine. </em></strong></p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>Your body belongs to me and so do you, from the moment you´ve accepted my offer till the moment I decide to undo my work.</em> </strong>
</p>
<p><strong> <em>You are </em> </strong> <strong>mine<em> to choose and do with whatever it is I please and you´d be wise to never forget or doubt it ever again just because I occasionally decide to be a lenient mistress and </em>allow <em>you the illusion of freedom and independant will.”</em></strong></p>
<p>The words <em>thunde</em>r through June, irradicate her thoughts, the world around her, vibrate through flesh and bone and organs alike, fill out her entire self with <em>conviction and will and truth.</em></p>
<p>And June understands why this being was a god once upon a time.</p>
<p>Maybe <strong>she </strong><em>still is</em>.</p>
<p>June believes it, for how could she not? It <em>is</em> true, she <em>was</em> saved by this thing, granted another life when there was nothing else to be had anymore and now she has to pay the price.</p>
<p>And the price is whatever <strong>she </strong>wants.</p>
<p>It is simple and ever so devastating because of it.</p>
<p>June understands why hundreds of people before her surrendered so willingly.</p>
<p>
  <em>She does.</em>
</p>
<p>The thing is ... it just <em>really</em> doesn´t float her boat, to surrender.</p>
<p>June Moone, the person she fought as and for and against all her life just ... does not give up like that, god or no god.</p>
<p>June Moone matters, has fought for the right to be just that, herself – and she´d rather be damned into nothingness than give up everything she´s built for herself – <em>as </em>herself - just because a disembodied fucking voice told her to.</p>
<p>So her response comes rather naturally.</p>
<p><em>“</em>Fuck. You<em>. You´re a fucking </em>lunatic<em> if you think I´ll just give you everything you´re asking for just because you decide that is what you want. </em></p>
<p><em>I get that there´s a price to pay and I get that I´m rather insignificant in comparisation to whatever the bloody fuck you are but </em>fuck you<em> for thinking that I`m nothing anymore because I know that I´m not. </em></p>
<p><em>Oh, and also </em>fuck you<em> for doing whatever it was you did last night because I do remember you saying that you won´t do shit to me and whatever it was, it certainly wasn´t nothing. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>So if you fucking want something ever again you better be ready to fight for it, you arrogant, ignorant, patronizing piece of shit.”</em>
</p>
<p>June would blush at her choice of words if she wasn´t already red with anger.</p>
<p>June would blush at herself challenging a godlike being, would be a trembling mess – if she was still there.</p>
<p>If she´d not experience what puts the hardest she´s ever been backhanded or whipped or beaten into a rather overwhelming perspective.</p>
<p>June´s back in the dark, feeling nauseous and angry and sick and weak.</p>
<p>Although all of it pales in comparisation to the overwhelming torrent of feeling crushing into her from all sides.</p>
<p>To say she´s made <strong>her</strong> angry would be .. false.</p>
<p>June´s made <strong>her</strong> furious beyond words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It´s the most terrified June´s ever been, worse than dying, worse than bleeding out, worse than the first time she´s caught the attention of this being, worse than her entire childhood combined.</p>
<p>It´s being helpless in the face of something so much larger than herself, so overwhelmingly ... <em>more</em> and <em>terrifyingly</em> mad at June.</p>
<p>It´s crushing and smothering and dreadful and - something clicks.</p>
<p>Because the feelings are still there, still tearing into June´s being but ... but ... it´s like rain <em>in</em> her head.</p>
<p>And June´s dripping wet already. So who gives a fuck anymore about getting hit with fucking feelings?</p>
<p>What else is supposed to happen?</p>
<p>She waits and when nothing changes, June feels a stream of calm confidence flowing into her being only this time it truly comes from the inside. Her own. <em>Hers.</em></p>
<p><em>This</em> is supposed to be it? The grand punishment?</p>
<p>Something akin to an angry parent who can´t even properly discipline their child?</p>
<p>Worse than her childhood June´s ass.</p>
<p><em>“Is that all you got you fucking whimp?”,</em> she screams into the wild fury of feeling around her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At first she thinks it dies down, allows to think of herself as the victor, glows in <em>free</em> and <em>strong </em>and <em>fuck you.</em></p>
<p>Then she realizes her mistake. It doesn´t die or recede or diminsh in strenght.</p>
<p>It´s ... condensing. Concentrating. Reducing itself into a singular presence, no longer all-encumbering but still very much there.</p>
<p>
  <em>Right there.</em>
</p>
<p>And oh-so enraged.</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“No.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>Then it´s gone and June´s left to her own devices, alone and full of doubt.</p>
<p>Because she felt something very close to hatred and a very much gleeful satisfaction alongside the singular word.</p>
<p>It might be worse than the furious storm. Not knowing.</p>
<p>Somewhere out there is June´s body and a furious demigod at the wheel, capable of who-knows what.</p>
<p>An idea the very opposite to comforting.</p>
<p>At the very least it looks like <strong>she</strong> can´t hurt June herself. Not yet, at least.</p>
<p>Or doesn´t want to, for some reason or another.</p>
<p>Because if things are how June suspects and this <em>was</em> the worst that can happen, being locked away in the infinite darkness as a victim to whatever whim <strong>she</strong> feels like subjecting her to – June´s pretty sure that she can take it.</p>
<p>The much more unsettling thought is what is <em>happening</em> while she´s here and <strong>she</strong> is out there.</p>
<p>And how long this can possibly last. Because there is no way of telling, as far as June´s concerned, and no way of breaking out of a prison that´s as immaterial and limitless as it gets.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p>
<p>Who said that? Nobody. Not even her bloody jailor.</p>
<p>And while that´s the impression left for June, that doesn´t mean it´s necessarily the whole truth now, does it?</p>
<p>At the very least it can´t hurt to <em>try.</em></p>
<p>Which is why June finds herself attempting to figure out what this state she´s ( now repeatedly ) been put in actually is.</p>
<p>There are no walls, no sounds, no barriers of any kind. There´s just a whole lot of <em>nothing</em> around June, June not-having-a-body-June, June-just-thinking-June.</p>
<p>Her consciousness, probably. Or soul. Or ... whatever. </p>
<p>Which she can use to ... communicate with what she can only guess is <em>another</em> consciousness.</p>
<p>Or soul. Or god. So. Yes. </p>
<p>And perhaps that´s all there is. A consciousness.</p>
<p>So strong that it manifests in something physical, so strong that it can change the material world in whichever way it wants, simply because it does want to and is stronger than ... the things themselves.</p>
<p>The thought only leads to more fear. It´s not what she needs.</p>
<p>What June needs is a way <em>out</em>.</p>
<p>Except that she´s nowhere and the only other thing she´s ever encountered here is ... the other one.</p>
<p>So ... wait. If she´s in here and <strong>she</strong>´s out there and there is a connection ...</p>
<p>What June <em>needs</em> is to find <strong>her</strong> on her own. Maybe.</p>
<p>Even if that seems rather counter-intuitive, escaping a prison by finding the jailor.</p>
<p>But since not-normal is June´s new normal anyway ... it´s not like she has any other ideas.</p>
<p>So June ventures out into the vast nothingness, looking for a – <em>her</em> god.</p>
<p>Maybe.</p><hr/>
<p>She remembers everything, at the very least everything there is to remember, everything from the point where she stopped being something and was someone instead.</p>
<p>She does not remember ever being this irritated.</p>
<p>It is new, it is enraging, it is making her furious and nervous and curious and ... no, not scared. <em>Never.</em></p>
<p>There´s no reason. This is just a small obstacle.</p>
<p>No. It isn´t.</p>
<p>It´s a challenge uttered by a vessel to it´s mistress.</p>
<p>Never before. Not even ... <em>then</em>. Never challenged. Not openly.</p>
<p>Betrayed – yes, many times, tricked, that too. But never like this.</p>
<p>
  <em>A challenge.</em>
</p>
<p>She´ll take it. She´ll show her. She´s overcome much more, much bigger threats than a singular, puny human mind before.</p>
<p>She´s still here. They´re not. And she´ll be here long after June Moone has vanished without even leaving as much as a trace in history.</p>
<p>She´ll show her and she already knows how to do so, what to begin with.</p>
<p>Since her vessel doesn´t understand what she´s dealing with quite yet, there will be yet another demonstration.</p>
<p>As it was, so it will be. She made an emperor and it´s people kneel before her, not their gods, not their king – <em>her.</em></p>
<p>She made them forget all that was there before her, she made <em>their places into hers alone</em>.</p>
<p>She´ll make June Moone kneel as well and it will be <em>nothing</em> in comparisation.</p>
<p>There will be a demonstration because she can, now.</p>
<p>Because she´s back, now, because she didn´t rest, didn´t sleep, had done one for far too long and never once experienced the other and now she´s back and has already taken first steps.</p>
<p>Prematurely perhaps, a decision not quite thought but felt-out instead.</p>
<p>It suits this situation, her needs perfectly.</p>
<p>Admittedly, she doesn´t <em>know</em> June, not yet, didn´t think to prioritize a singular one above the world, one she thought to have under control already, but she knows where June´s been, where she herself has been ... <em>found</em>.</p>
<p>Like an item, a relic of the past, something <em>meaningless</em> for fickle human paws to stumble across, for their minds and eyes to play with. A passtime.</p>
<p>She´s anything but. She wanted to show them. Now she wants to show June.</p>
<p>So she did something about it. At night. She ... might´ve made a mistake, except that it isn´t anymore. It felt necessary and now it is useful.</p>
<p>She closes her eyes and feels outwards. Feels ... <em>everything</em>.</p>
<p>Herself at the centre, a spider in a web of strings that are too thin, too delicate for creatures still so much more primitive than herself.</p>
<p>She´s taken care to weave it all across her forest and while the trees have changed and faded, while holes have been cut into the weave, the strings are still there. Still strong.</p>
<p>They remember her as much as she remembers them.</p>
<p>And now she just has to follow the very same she did mere hours ago.</p>
<p>It´s as easy as turning around.</p>
<p>It´s glorious, it feels ... <em>right</em>, now even more so then yesterday.</p>
<p>Because she can feel herself, feel <em>like herself</em> again.</p>
<p>She feels ... right. Doesn´t stumble across the ground, doesn´t struggle to move her eyes, to blink or breathe or raise her hands anymore.</p>
<p>She´s learned indeed, and relearned.</p>
<p>She´s learned fast, always did, always will and so it feels right again. She does.</p>
<p>
  <em>Her vessel does. </em>
</p>
<p>It might just be the renewed, almost forgotten thrill of feeling.</p>
<p>Perhaps it will wear off in time, like it always did, always will and she´ll grow tired and June Moone will be just another one, another corpse, another life.</p>
<p>She doubts she´ll forget this one soon but forgetting she will, eventually. It´s inevitable, inseparably tied to her being the singular thing that doesn´t change, doesn´t age, doesn´t die.</p>
<p>And yet ... her vessel ... she just feels so ... different.</p>
<p>It´s annoying.</p>
<p>She´ll grow out of it and in a few decades there will have been dozens of June´s, dozens of these new humans to slip into and break, till their life has been made hers and ultimately fades.</p>
<p>It´s inevitable. She is.</p>
<p>Breathing in and feeling outwards, there´s the forest, not one of her many former lives but close, close enough to make her feel ... pain.</p>
<p>That life is gone now. It´s been taken away. And she´s been ... gone too.</p>
<p>It is only just that she takes something in return. There´s always a price to pay. June will learn that too.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Got you!”</em>
</p>
<p>She´d think it a trick of the mind but her mind doesn´t play tricks on her, there are no such tricks, there´s her and the world and she´s the one holding all the cards, knowing all the tricks, knowing, feeling and seeing everything.</p>
<p>Now there´s a voice. It makes her freeze in her tracks. It is new. It is ... not scary.</p>
<p>Nothing is.</p>
<p>Not when she´s the true terror out there in the night.</p>
<p>And she´ll be damned if June Moone doesn´t come to see that too.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Now, what the-“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>“You´ve made it at last. Good. And just in time. I don´t particularily fancy waiting.”</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>She cuts her off, her vessel that has just accomplished something she´s never even deemed possible. It – June – <em>she´s right there.</em></p>
<p>Not quite next to her, not quite a challenge but <em>there</em>. <em>Present.</em></p>
<p><em>Looming</em> in the background with all those sharp edges to cut herself on, cuts that don´t hurt and yet she feels their presence, June´s presence like a human would feel ... pain. A wound. A scar.</p>
<p>And the one that´s June got here through the strenght of her own mind.</p>
<p>It wouldn´t be advisable to let her astonishment show.</p>
<p>It is much wiser to ... twist everything in a way that suits her needs, to pretend and deceive.</p>
<p>Nothing she´s been forced into doing in forever, nothing she used to practice ever since - but nothing she could ever forget.</p>
<p>It´s ... natural. Right. </p>
<p>There´s no way her vessel could know any better.</p>
<p>No way that June, however she managed to worm her way out of her own mind, would doubt that it only happened because she was allowed to.</p>
<p>
  <em>Is there?</em>
</p>
<p>She can feel ... a lot coming forth alongside the human´s presence, thoughts and emotions and both intertwined, too complex and multi-layered for her to understand with just a glimpse.</p>
<p>June indeed warrents a very detailed, very intensive ... look.</p>
<p>Now more so then earlier.</p>
<p>Because while she didn´t get beaten, never does, never will, not entirely, she´s getting <em>challenged.</em></p>
<p>And there´s no way she´ll allow such a thing without responding.</p>
<p>Thankfully, one such a response is at hand, as is her vessel and it all falls into place rather beautifully, not planned, not intended but falling to her whim nonetheless.</p>
<p>It is magnificent. The very same way she thought of the surrounding jungle, once.</p>
<p>Last night it made her sick.</p>
<p>Today, she doesn´t feel a whole lot other than an almost nervous excitement, brimming through her very being.</p>
<p>She does look forward to breaking this human, she realizes.</p>
<p><strong><em>“Do you recognize our surroundings, dearest June?”</em></strong>, she purrs and tears open a hole for her vessel to see.</p>
<p>And oh, does June recognize it, it takes but a moment till she does but maybe her mind has already come to fear something akin to this.</p>
<p>Maybe. There´s too much uncertainty surrounding June for her liking but ... it will do.</p>
<p>Because she can <em>taste</em> June´s fear and her terror and it´s <em>glorious.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“What did you do?”</em>
</p>
<p>It´s glorious. She feels ... like she used to, back then, with not a single human not trembling with either fear or awe or both.</p>
<p>It´s glorious. What she did? Glorious.</p>
<p>Reminiscing. Avenging herself. Letting loose. Stretching another other kind of muscle, <em>hers</em>, the ones she and she alone owns and posesses.</p>
<p>One might call it lashing out, loosing control, surrendering all thought to feeling and doing what felt ... best. Helping herself.</p>
<p>She allows June a better view of the scenery, the sight of which sends thrills of satisfaction down her – June´s – spine. She makes June feel those too. Everything.</p>
<p>Doesn´t filter out a single notion because she wants June to experience ... <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>The power, the anger, the cruelty. But mostly the power.</p>
<p>They both gaze upon what used to be a tomb, a relic, stone and vines and history.</p>
<p>A humiliation only to her, a monument of her defeat, her embarressment</p>
<p>It´s not that anymore. She´s changed it´s face, it´s nature.</p>
<p>Now it is a memento of a different kind.</p>
<p>She doesn´t add anything to the imagery, to the heads and bones and limbs worked seemlessly in between the ancient stone like a bloody clay. She doesn´t need to, the red and white and black speaks for itself.</p>
<p>Now what does it say? To her?</p>
<p>It´s a message and a confirmation and a denial.</p>
<p>It says <em>“this was me being weak for centuries. Let it be known that I´m not.”</em></p>
<p>And to June?</p>
<p>She´s not sure. She knows that the humans she´s turned into words and letters of her message were known to her vessel, although the extend of their relationship is yet to be discovered.</p>
<p>She hopes June cared. June ...</p>
<p>June´s gone. Retreated deep beneath the surface, curled up and so very small where she tried to puff herself out moments ago.</p>
<p>It makes her smile.</p>
<p>June cares. June´s scared. June´s mortified.</p>
<p>
  <em>What did she see? What did she read?</em>
</p>
<p>Hopefully that <em>she</em> can and <em>she</em> will, that she cares very little about all the small lives around her. June <em>will</em> see, alas for now it seems best to leave the human alone.</p>
<p>Her message has been received, one way or the other.</p>
<p>June should be smart enough to draw the necessary conclusions.</p>
<p>As for the message left behind ...</p>
<p>There´s very little to be done. She couldn´t care less about any “relationships” that the humans she´s slaughtered have left behind, any loose strings.</p>
<p>Those will take care of themselves. The forest will eventually consume what she´s going to leave it with and if she wills it so, there won´t even be a trace of any unfitting presence at all.</p>
<p>The forest loves her still. It is only right that she gives something back.</p>
<p>Finding the human residance is a blink of her eyes.</p>
<p>Their homes, temporary as they may have been intended to be, are both interesting as well as aggravating.</p>
<p>They don´t fit. They don´t give. They don´t belong and while she would´ve tollerated their presence in a civilized environment, here she does not.</p>
<p>The forest agrees with here, the ground all too willing to swallow the foreign material and make it´s strenght his own. It might take ages, but both she and the forest have time.</p>
<p>When it´s done, she sighs in pleasure and the forest breaths alongside her.</p>
<p>It wants to grow, take back what´s meant to be his and his alone and she agrees.     </p>
<p>Even after all these years, feeling outwards, feeling all things around her and feeling herself in them, witnessing her presence in the rapid growth feels ... right.</p>
<p>It is beautiful. It is giving back. It is balance. It is <em>right</em> and it is <em>all her.</em></p>
<p>How it´s supposed to be.</p>
<p>It reminds her of the past and she finds that she doesn´t quite want to leave.</p>
<p>Instead she asks for a place to rest and wait in peace till her vessel has recovered and the forest bows and leads her there.</p>
<p>It remembers. It doesn´t <em>care</em> but it <em>recognizes</em> her, remembers her, not as a queen, not as an empress or a god but <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>Someone that gives and takes, comes and goes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sprawled out, long limbed and lithe, powerful, breathing, alive on top over a series of rocks next to a slowly flowing river, she feels ... better.</p>
<p>At peace, almost.</p>
<p>If not for the issue of June Moone simmering deep within, a sharp contrast to her own mood and mindset, the feelings too distant and dim to recognize but ... gnawing.</p>
<p>Gnawing.</p>
<p>Gnawing.</p>
<p>She´s confident that it will be fine. Night settles in and she doesn´t move, does nothing but attune herself to the forest, feel it all around her, listen to it´s wants and needs,</p>
<p>comings and goings – and to the one human that´s always around, always there, whether she likes it or not.</p>
<p>It´s ... something. She´s not sure of it yet.</p>
<p>She will be, eventually.</p>
<p>It´s inevitable.</p><hr/>
<p><strong>She</strong> killed them.</p>
<p>It shouldn´t surprise June, it shouldn´t shock June, it shouldn´t terrify her nearly as much as it does.</p>
<p>Because she´s caught glimpses of it already, hasn´t she?</p>
<p>She knows that <strong>she</strong>´s not human, knows about the sacrificial practices in all of the ancient mesoamerican cultures, was prepared for receiving her punishment for stepping out of line.</p>
<p>Not quite enough.</p>
<p>June feels something snap at the sight of ... it, finds herself getting yanked backwards, back into her own and filled with shock and dread and terror.</p>
<p>It lasts for a while, the imagery lingers and so do the implications.</p>
<p>June´s not stupid, not in the slightest, socialy inept, maybe, but not stupid.</p>
<p>She knows a demonstration when she sees one, knows a message when she sees one and this was meant to be both.</p>
<p>Tremendously effective at both things.</p>
<p>That is until the first shock wears off.</p>
<p>People died, which is horrific, sure, and in a way they died because of her, because of June Moone´s curious nature, because of June stuffing her nose in everything ancient, because of her being unable to resist a temptation beyond her understanding.</p>
<p>They died - but June´s not the one responsible.</p>
<p>The fucking lunatic in control of her body is.</p>
<p><strong>She </strong>killed them, not June, not even because of June but because of whatever insane rational has driven <strong>her</strong> to come out here and do ... that.</p>
<p><em>Last night. </em>Hopefully.</p>
<p>Before June´s given her any reason to, despite of what <strong>she</strong> promised.</p>
<p>To then proceed and make June <em>see and feel everything.</em></p>
<p>June feels cold anger threatening to overwhelm her and swallows it.</p>
<p>She has to think, now and fast and as silent as possible, as privately as possible.</p>
<p>The fact that she doesn´t feel like she´s being actively spied on doesn´t mean anything as far as she knows, what she <em>does</em> know is that emotions appear to leak through whatever barrier is separating the two of them much more easily than thoughts.</p>
<p>June´s better at one of those anyway.</p>
<p>Alright. People died. Gruesome deaths. People somewhat like her, none of which she´s even gotten the opportunity to know in person, people she´s only ever heard of or chatted with online in preparation for the very expedition that´s doomed their lives.</p>
<p>And hers.</p>
<p>The question is ... would they have died, would the fucking demon posessing June have been found and emerged either way?</p>
<p>June recons that <em>yes</em>, it would´ve happened eventually, not through her, not as quickly but ... yes.</p>
<p>Probably. It´s by no means a certainty but June´s state of mind needs it to be a hard truth and so it is.</p>
<p>Either way, they´re dead and there´s nothing June can do about it anymore.</p>
<p>What <em>is</em> there to do?</p>
<p>Because something <em>has</em> to be done and right now she can´t imagine that there´s anyone else but a certain June Moone that realizes it.</p>
<p>Which means that <em>she</em> has to be the one doing something, a thought that terrifies her briefly until she shoves it away into the darkest corner of her mind to deal with later,</p>
<p>hopefully out of reach not just for her but also the lunatic rummaging around in her head.</p>
<p>Do something. Do something about an enraged demigod.</p>
<p>Great. How do you do something about a threat that you scarcely know anything about except that it´s way too much for you to handle but has to be dealt with <em>by you exclusively?</em></p>
<p>You collect all the available information, ascertain potential tools and act accordingly.</p>
<p>And most importantly, you <em>do something</em>, anything, anything but relenting and giving up.</p>
<p>June can´t afford to, she thinks. For her sake as well as everyone elses sake.</p>
<p>What <em>does</em> she know then?</p>
<p>The thing – <strong>she </strong>– is old. According to <strong>her</strong> as old as humanity itself, if not more so.</p>
<p>June needs more information, a name, appearance, anything to go by, would pay the place she´s died in a visit within a heartbeat - if she could without <strong>her</strong> knowing, if it was still <em>there</em> and hadn´t been turned into yet another tomb.</p>
<p>Maybe she can pry something out of her jailor if she gets creative. </p>
<p>Because <strong>she</strong>´s proud, the thing, proud and tackish and ... surprisingly emotional, as far as June can tell.</p>
<p>Which is ... interesting. Something to exploit. Something to look into. A weakness.</p>
<p>What does <strong>she</strong> want then?</p>
<p>June doubts that <strong>she</strong> knows that itself.</p>
<p>If she were to guess – what all the powerful people want.</p>
<p>More power. Fame – or infamy, riches ... woman?</p>
<p><strong>She</strong> does have a thing for woman, it seems. Somehow. Identifies as one. Fucking weird. </p>
<p>Identification. Great point. It – <strong>she</strong> – has historically looked for a fitting ... vessel.</p>
<p>The thought makes June want to puke – metaphorically speaking.</p>
<p>Because she´s been unfortunate enough to spring the trap and now <em>she´s</em> the vessel.</p>
<p>June briefly wonders how “fitting” she feels compared to all the others and is disgusted by her own vanity.</p>
<p>It doesn´t matter – except ... that it does. Because if June´s to be a suitable host, the probability of her getting disposed of decreases significantly.</p>
<p><em>Great.</em> June thinks about herself dying already. For what´s to be the second and doubtlessly last time.</p>
<p>And is somewhat grateful for the knowledge that her own death would by no means be the equivalent to the thing inside of her dying, since June´s literally witnessed large chunks of many, many of <strong>her </strong>previous ... lives.</p>
<p>And an apparently ageless, non-material one. Undying. Un-bodied.</p>
<p>And ... June´s honestly just grateful for that little bit of insight.</p>
<p>Because if ... she didn´t know, maybe she would´ve –</p>
<p>No matter. What else?</p>
<p>Power. What can <strong>she</strong> do? <strong>She</strong> obviously has a terrifying control over June´s body but, contrary to <strong>her</strong> statements, appears to have very little influence on June´s mind.</p>
<p>If she´s not <em>already</em> under a spell of sorts, which might as well be true but alas, for the sake of her sanity June will move forward assuming that she´s not.</p>
<p>A spell. She´s pretty sure that <strong>her</strong> state of being involves ... “magic” - one way beyond what appears to be like ... minor healing. Video-game-shit. Ridiculous.</p>
<p>Power. Powers. Power-ups. Stamina and HP and Mana and ... spells. Power. Overpowered, in fact.</p>
<p>Because if June´s perception of time is not getting trifled with and she does <em>not</em> in fact misjudge the situation terribly, not a whole lot of time is passing between June finding her body several thousand miles apart from it´s last confirmed location.</p>
<p>“Teleportation” probably being the best-fitting word.</p>
<p>Great. Not to mention the slaughtering part.</p>
<p>June wonders exactly how many died within how many seconds - and gives up.</p>
<p>Enough to warrent a non-traditional ... method. Not to mention the “decorations”.</p>
<p>The thought alone makes June want to throw up <em>inside of her own head - for the second time. </em>It´s not something she ever wanted to experience nor repeat. </p>
<p>So she banishes it and focuses on more consequencial things. Like power.</p>
<p>The times when June just felt ... <em>something</em> trickle into her self that´s ... power.</p>
<p>About - <em>from</em> the other one. She feels ... <strong>her</strong> power.</p>
<p>Power reaching this far that she can´t even imagine this thing picking up a knife or pen or gods forbid, a rifle.</p>
<p>That´s just ... <em>no.</em></p>
<p>And – holy fuck, there´s so much to think about.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>June does so extensively, methodically whilst continuously checking on herself.</p>
<p>To make sure that it´s <em>just</em> her. At times it feels like it isn´t, like there´s a pressure that comes and goes but she can´t be sure. It ends up being just another point on a very, very long list.</p>
<p>Which she won´t put down even if she was to regain her body but instead keeps hidden away as best as she can. In her head.</p>
<p>Right where she suspects her blind-passenger to be seated.</p>
<p>Only that the imagery doesn´t work because the passenger makes it´s presence well-known and June´s the one feeling like she´s lacking at least one of her core senses in comparisation.</p>
<p>Needless to say, things are looking not-all-that-great, but at the very least she´s not freaking out and she´s still alive, more than what could be said a day ago.</p>
<p>And at long last, she´s come up with certain <em>ideas</em> which don´t quite make up to be a plan yet but are ... ideas.</p>
<p>They might entail wooing a demon-goddess into a false sense of calmness and security when <strong>she</strong> <em>doesn´t</em> want anything, pry out whatever information June can get her hands on and otherwise resist as hard as she possibly can, make it as strenous and difficult as defeating a human mind could possibly be for something that´s decisively <em>not</em>, decisively <em>more</em> than June.</p>
<p>Whatever that might entail.</p>
<p>Because if she gives up, June forfeits her life, her self, and every remaining influence she might still have on what´s going to be done through her body.</p>
<p>And she´ll be damned if she lets that happen.</p>
<p>June Moone refuses to break and since she´s been here before, June´s not easily scared any longer.</p>
<p>And she finds not just power for herself but a certain beauty in that.</p>
<p>June hangs onto that sentiment like one drowning to a plank of wood when she reaches back outwards.</p>
<p>An image she deems uncomfortably suited to her situation.</p><hr/>
<p>When she feels June reaching out for her it´s both a relief and an annoyance.</p>
<p>Because while she wasn´t at peace, <em>couldn´t be</em> with the turmoil going on inside of her body, couldn´t be while the ... situation between her and her vessel had not been resolved quite yet, it was ... nice.</p>
<p>Just being.</p>
<p>And she finds that such a simplistic yet pleasent sensation has not occured very often in her existance.</p>
<p>In fact, she can´t seem to recall another occurance that compares.</p>
<p>It was always <em>different, more intense</em> one way or another and she´s not sure which way she´d prefer right here, right now.</p>
<p>Either way, it´s not a choice to be made now that the human´s come back out of her hole and she embraces June emerging with an anticipation that´s surprising to her.</p>
<p>A bit like an eagle spying a on a rodent that chooses to leave it´s burrow at long last.</p>
<p>Although something feels different – not that it matters.</p>
<p>Because as she feels out June´s emerging consciousness – it´s all <em>wrong. June´s all wrong</em>.</p>
<p>June doesn´t feel like she´s supposed to. Her human is not a pathetically broken, barely knitted back together pile of devastation.</p>
<p>She´s as solid and clear-cut as she was hours ago, much more composed than when she first realized that she was not alone, did not succumb to death yet.</p>
<p>It´s<em> wrong</em>. Humans feel compassion, humans feel connected to one another, humans are pack-animals, humans are weak and fragile and <em>not like her</em>.</p>
<p>Humans care.</p>
<p>June feels ... <em>different.</em></p>
<p>And she doesn´t know why and how – and it <em>scares</em> her.</p>
<p>She needs to get a grip on June and it needs to be done soon – <em>now</em>.</p>
<p>She <em>needs</em> –</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hello.”</em>
</p>
<p>The composure in June´s voice is unsettling her even further, because as far as she can tell, it runs deep and true and solid.</p>
<p>June´s not scared. June´s not traumatised.</p>
<p>June´s not how she should be after witnessing the cruelly splayed out remains of a bunch of her kind that she should´ve cared for.</p>
<p>After witnessing <em>her</em> anger and rage and uncaring for anything that makes June beyond being a vessel.</p>
<p>She doesn´t know what to do or say or ... anything.</p>
<p>So she doesn´t. For the first time.</p>
<p><em>“In a way, this is funny, isn´t it?”</em>, continues the human. </p>
<p>She can feel the amusement and it´s not pretty, but it´s there and it´s honest.</p>
<p>
  <em>“The fact that you´re much more shook than I am. I can tell, you know?”</em>
</p>
<p>She can too, now. She doesn´t like it one bit. Beink ... shook. A new word for something so very rare.</p>
<p>And she hates that it´s her vessel that´s made her ... that.</p>
<p>Her reaction is harsh and sharp, pushing June away from the surface, away from her, limiting her space and access and effectively walling her off from everything that´s not herself.</p>
<p>It doesn´t seem to matter. She can feel her own distress much more clearly than her humans.</p>
<p>It´s all wrong. Why does it not work? Why is her human ... wrong?</p>
<p>Is she ... is <em>she</em> the ... problem? No. Can´t be.</p>
<p>She´ll see. She´ll <em>make</em> June show her. She´ll tear her puny brain apart if that´s what it takes.</p>
<p><strong><em>“Let us see if we can´t change that fact.”</em></strong><strong>,</strong> she hisses, coiling up like a snake and tearing a gaping hole, boring her self into June´s side of things.</p>
<p>It´s high time to put her human into perspective.</p><hr/>
<p>Breaking through takes longer than she expected, feels different than she expected but she succeeds nonetheless, undeterred, inevitable.</p>
<p>And when she does she immediately digs deep, to the core, because she <em>needs</em> everything, <em>wants</em> everything, to understand.</p>
<p>Like all things.</p>
<p>She finds herself ... not where she expected, not how she expected but ... somewhere else.</p>
<p>Not surrounded by blurry imagery, only loosely connected, not unorganized and primal like an animal´s mind but ...</p>
<p>It is as close to a room as things around these parts may get, as close to time and space as things in here may get.</p>
<p>The outside is ... veiled, for lack of a better word, unclean and unclear, the inside is <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>And June.</p>
<p>Not how it´s supposed to be. She´s <em>in </em>June, inside of where her vessels memories are supposed to be so how is there <em>a June</em> with her?</p>
<p>The June is aware. The June looks at her, frowns and sighs.</p>
<p><em>Sighs</em>. As close to making a sound as it gets. As close to speaking as it gets.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well fuck. Better get it over with then, shall we?”</em>
</p>
<p>And while the inside-June, the speaking, not-supposed-to-be-June is something that would´ve caught her interest under pretty much any other circumstances - when the non-room around them clears without her intent, without her doing anything but being here ( which means that it has to be June´s doing, hers or this one´s ) it forces her to redirect her attention.</p>
<p>The not-June and her both do. They watch as June remembers, <em>is made to.</em></p>
<p>She doesn´t want to, June, that is, the one surrounding the both of them. It´s ... palpable. Somehow. And yet she does.</p>
<p>June´s clear memories go back much further than the usual ones, the furthest she´s ever seen at least based on the tiny child appearing behind the dissapating veil.</p>
<p>It is blonde and fragile and <em>June</em>. She can feel her.</p>
<p>June remembers because she can´t <em>not</em>.</p>
<p>June remembers her parents, tall and proud with hair both dark and grey, imposing and being everything that June´s not.</p>
<p>They´re not her parents yet <em>are</em>, somehow, something that would´ve been immensely confusing if not for the understanding that comes alongside the memory.</p>
<p>There´s a word for this. It is called “adoption”.</p>
<p>It has a meaning but to June it has a vastly different one.</p>
<p>June remembers “adoption” being Mr. And Mrs. Crawford, not mom and dad, not mother and father but ... this. June remembers rules and orders, obligations, expectations and punishment.</p>
<p>June remembers lessons and control, bedtime and belts.</p>
<p>June´s memories are clear and sharp and sting opon being witnessed, even from behind a barrier, even separeted by time and space and mind, even when she´s not getting hurt herself, can´t. </p>
<p>She can <em>feel </em>it.</p>
<p>June remembers paper and books, writing and speaking till throat and hands are sore and two ever present figures looming in the background, distant but always there, always vigilant, always ready for June to stumble.</p>
<p>“A Crawford doesn´t stumble”, June remembers. “A Crawford doesn´t cry”, June says instead of crying.</p>
<p>A Crawford learns her lessons and learns them well, because a lesson is harsh and true and when one shot is all you get and the reminder is pain, lessons are well-learned.</p>
<p>Pain works. Pain´s effective. Pain´s discipline and discipline is success and success requires to be kept flawlessly clean and groomed and to be followed only ever by success.</p>
<p>It requires an heir.</p>
<p>June remembers being twisted and beaten into shape, character and mind.</p>
<p>She also remembers leaving all of it behind at night, nose stuffed into the pages of a book in the dim lighting of a singular lamp, the only entertainment, the only escape.</p>
<p>Because the toys she´s given she´s given in order to take them away and the maids and tutors June takes a liking to find themselves fired when she fails.</p>
<p>June remembers the consequences of getting caught staying up late.</p>
<p>She remembers not getting caught ever again. She remembers learning to love the moon high in the night´s sky, it´s light and the stories and knowledge it brought into her life.</p>
<p>They couldn´t take away all the books and they couldn´t take away the moon.</p>
<p>June remembers learning the meaning of “heritage” beyond the implications of another one´s vision, long, long into an unbearably distant future, remembers the first time her thoughts twisted in ways that might´ve gotten her beaten to death if anyone were to find out, to draw them out of her. Nobody ever did. Nobody. Ever.</p>
<p>She remembers not-sleeping one night at all, remembers all the twisting and turning her body did in order to keep up with her mind. “Heritage”. “Post-mortem”. Words drilling themselves into her skull on their own volition.</p>
<p>June´s supposed to learn everything as fast as possible and she does.</p>
<p>All the lessons, the ones intended to be and the ones that life teaches her.</p>
<p>June remembers wanting to die for the first time, easy, quick, painless – and remembers choosing not to do so. Because while it´s most certainly a solution, an out, perhaps the only real one at the time, June wants to read. June wants to keep seeing the moon, hearing stories, experience the different lives out there in the rest of the world, the real ones, the fakes ones, those in the past, present and future.</p>
<p>Yet death keeps being a solution, looming just around the corner, and as June keeps reading, she realizes that death does not only exist for her. June remembers learning the meaning of “murder”.</p>
<p>She finds it to be a very interesting word, one that reminds her of the lessons Mr. Crawford told her, the ones about lying and cheating and putting on a smile even when associating with unsavoury folk, because that is business, because it´s all business and business is cold and harsh and unforgiving and so he makes June because June has to learn how to get what she wants at all costs.</p>
<p>She does. June turns about to be a very fast learner.</p>
<p>And when an officer comes knocking at the door, bearing the news of her parents ( <em>no, never, NEVER hers</em> ) death in a tragic accident, June sits on top of a long staircase, outside of everyone´s sight, the officer, the maids, the tutors - and can´t help but smile. It´s genuine, for once. It feels ... <em>right.</em></p>
<p>June remembers being orphaned for the second time and the beginning of her next life.</p>
<p>Ironically, it´s memories are much less clear than the ones covering the one prior.</p>
<p>Of course, there are moments which are sharp and clear to a similar degree that make June reading, June learning and June dreaming her little dreams appear like ... just dreams.</p>
<p>She thinks a lot, June, even as a child. Is quiet.</p>
<p>Traumatized, her never ending stream of caretakers say. Her doctors agree.</p>
<p>She doesn´t like either of them and yet thinks they might be right despite never actually understanding, but June´s learned too much and too fast in order to speak up to them. </p>
<p>June´s learned to trust and help only herself so she doesn´t tell them anything. It´s all business and all that matters is that she gets what she wants.</p>
<p>Until she can June reads and dreams and learns and maybe she still crumbles down into a little girl from time to time, maybe she still hears and feels the bite of worn leather and steel all over herself but as she reads and dreams and watches the moon she realizes that it´s not real. Not anymore. Never to be ever again.</p>
<p><em>Eventually</em> she does.</p>
<p>That is after the pleasent fog of seemingly endlessly stored liquor taking over her life and the times she stands in her <em>new</em> room, looking out of a window somewhere high in the night, yearning for everything and nothing at all, feeling death still looming, just around the corner in th hallway.</p>
<p>June learns a lot in the time where most children haven´t even begun to understand.</p>
<p>So it´s only natural that when she at lasts enters an education beyond the realm of the Crawfordian Mansion that she feels ... different than others. Better and worse at the same time.</p>
<p>It´s only natural that she doesn´t like them and they don´t like her.</p>
<p>It´s only natural that it results in events that remind her of the people she used to call parents – call, not think off, <em>never</em> – and it´s natural that she´s not surprised anymore.</p>
<p>Not surprised when there´s noone else but her on her side. </p>
<p>It is alright with an adolescent June, because it´s all ... cold.</p>
<p>She has herself, her dreams and thoughts and the night´s sky.</p>
<p>She´s still relieved when, towards the end of her regular education, the torment lessens, even if it´s always felt like faint echoes in comparisation, ones that never came close to touching who she was.</p>
<p>June´s learned that very early as well.</p>
<p>The June at the end of her teenage years has known for years what she wants and what she doesn´t want and at the day of her eightteenth birthday, June claims the Crawfordian heritage, just as the late Mr. And Mrs. Crawford always intended to, gives away their company, hires a construction crew to stomp their manor into the ground and changes her name to June Moone.</p>
<p>The money and the land she keeps, because June payed attention and she recons it´s going to make the Crawfords turn in their graves when she spends it on yet another trip to a distant country for no actual reason other than wanting to see and learn and breathe freely at last.</p>
<p>June Moone knows what she wants and knows that she <em>can</em>.</p>
<p>She´s proven that she can, to noone but herself and finds that to be all she needs.</p>
<p>She enjoys traveling. She enjoys learning and she enjoys the nights.</p>
<p>June is not scared anymore, doesn´t need the dark to feel safe anymore but it still feels like home. Like comfort.</p>
<p><br/>
Because whereever she is, whatever she has with her – not much, June doesn´t care about material posessions beyond the necessary because she´s learned very early that if you have something, it can easily be taken away – the sky´s the same, the stars and the moon are the same and her thoughts and mind are hers and hers alone.</p>
<p>And when June Moone visits a graveyard on the very same day every year, she talks about herself, what she did and saw and felt.</p>
<p>She hopes it makes them <em>sick</em>. She doesn´t regret anything, because June was a good girl and listened and learned and understood that regret got you nothing and nowhere.</p>
<p>It´s only sometimes that June wishes she was in the car with them - just to see them burn.</p>
<p>And perhaps, sometimes, to feel the warmth of the flame for herself.</p>
<p>But it is what they would´ve wanted and June will be damned if she gives them the satisfaction of giving into their whim just one more time.</p>
<p>Not then, not now, <em>never.</em></p>
<p>This life´s <em>hers</em> and hers <em>alone</em> and she´ll fight for it till the day she dies, even herself, on her own.</p>
<p>June´s remaining life flies bye under that banner, barely more than the blink of an eye.</p>
<p>There´s books and planes, ruins and faces of friends that aren´t, women that June would like to know but doesn´t because she´s a good girl and learned her lessons, learned that one does not want but is wanted, because if you want something, it can get taken away and used against you and if something is somebody, it means you´ve lost.</p>
<p>So instead there´s knowledge and preparation, shaping herself into the person she wants to be because in the end, that´s all that matters and all that stays with her.</p>
<p>That and the nights and her dreams.</p>
<p>June dreams of being an archeologist, of living inside of a story that noone knows of yet, a story that´s told at night by herself to herself, one that might´ve happened once upon a time, was taken away but can be taken back by the power of her mind, that will never be lost to her and the world ever again.</p>
<p>And so she does and so it happens.</p>
<p>June Moone is sharp and hard and clear when she goes on the trip to Guatemala, sharp and hard and clear when she goes through the necessary motions of interacting with her peers that don´t feel like her because they aren´t, because they haven´t been taught what she´s been taught, <em>sharp and hard and clear</em> when she arrives and goes to sleep with a vision and a dream and the night´s sky watching.</p>
<p>Death and pain make June blur around the edges, loose herself a little and June hates it, but it doesn´t scare her anymore, doesn´t make her budge or break cause June´s learned enough lessons already and refuses to be taught any different.</p>
<p>June doesn´t want to die, not even when she does, so when June finds herself hurt and dying, finds herself inside of a story, she thinks of the Crawfords, takes a chance and says <strong><em>no.</em></strong></p>
<p>And now June´s been made to find herself again and what she´s about to say can truly only be one thing.</p>
<p>Because June Moone may not be a good girl, but she´s damn well learned her fucking lessons.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh my fuck.</p>
<p>I´m so stupid. Just figured out how I won´t have to spend hours re-editing. Ugh. I guess better now than ... later. Fucking hell. Will still re-read again.<br/>You may expect much faster uploads now and either commend or chastice me for noticing just now. Both is kinda justifyable imo. Considering me being a fucking clutz with tech despite overusing it on a regular basis. Right. Back to the actual content.</p>
<p>I really like this one. Probably my favorite so far ( maybe because I´ve not been needing to fucking edit every single paragraph and shit ) but also ... well.<br/>Kind of a turning point, backstory, first connections, similarities, criss-crossing going on...</p>
<p>I just like it. It´s subjective I guess. Hope you do too, despite the darker tones. Think I managed them well, not doing anything too explicit ( that will come later but hopefully in a fun way ) while not leaving anything out. </p>
<p>Here´s to hoping. Would obviously enjoy your oppinions / feedback / ... like ... sharing I guess but it´s fine either way.<br/>Doing this mostly as practice / for myself either way ( wouldn´t work any other tbh ).</p>
<p>Enjoy. Cya.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"><strong>V. foreign</strong>/<em>strange/</em>new</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Whether she´s expelled, merely lets go or retreats on her own volition, she doesn´t know.</p><p>It probably doesn´t matter too much, not now, not when she finds herself outside of June, her memories and thoughts and the other-June and ...</p><p>She´s ... processing, rapidly, surgically and yet everything feels anything but.</p><p>June doesn´t feel like it either.</p><p>June feels ... messy.</p><p>She wouldn´t mind or care if she wouldn´t find herself sharing the sentiment, hadn´t shared <em>the feeling</em> of growing and living as her human.</p><p>Messy. Strange. Thrilling but not.</p><p>Not in the same elating fashion but in a way that appears to cloud her thinking, her judgement, her feeling ...</p><p>Realizing she does not enjoy it, the feeling´s banished.</p><p>What´s left is her and her human and while she´s aware that their body is still somewhere in the amazonian rainforest, stagnant and perfectly still, perfectly in synch with everything around her, she remains here.</p><p>For the most part.</p><p>Facing June as much as she´s facing her.</p><p>And yet again she doesn´t ... <em>know</em>, despite now knowing all there is to.</p><p>Only this time she knows the feeling, recognizes it and has something to go by, clues and pieces, points of interest as well as points of attack.</p><p>This time she´s the one refusing to give, just like it´s supposed to be, not the other way around.</p><p>Yet this ... it feels ... messy.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“You love the nights?”</strong> </em>
</p><p>It is not what she intended to ask, as she did not intend to ask anything at all. She doesn´t do that, asking - at least not earnestly - and yet it happens, which is a first and ... scary.</p><p>Lacking control over herself.</p><p>She can´t imagine how humans bear such a thing fact all the time. She could of course look into it but it doesn´t – shouldn´t – <em>it </em><em>doesn´t matter</em>. It´s not like she´s going to experience it over an extended period of time. This once ... it´s connected to June, somehow.</p><p>A byproduct of having spent too much time in a mortals head, <em>as June</em>.</p><p>An unpleasent surprise but ... tollerable. This once.</p><p>June herself ... she´ somewhat surprised as well, even though she tries to hide it. Futile, of course.</p><p>Surprised and both sharp as well as blurry in her self, one intended, one not - or perhaps both just a state being. Passive, a happenstance, conditioning, <em>learned. </em></p><p>Perhaps.</p><p>
  <em>“That ... yes.”,</em>
</p><p>Not what she expected, neither of them, because it shouldn´t – <em>doesn´t</em> matter.</p><p>Yet she can´t help but ... cling to the idea, the image, the memory of her human lying under a window, staring upwards, feeling upwards, into the night.</p><p>It – she – feels ...</p><p>Like it doesn´t matter. It´s a miniscule part of June Moone´s past, even less in comparisation to her own, <em>barely anything</em> in relation to what she was and is and will be.</p><p>It is time to shake off any residue of <em>human</em> that might stubbornly cling onto her.</p><p>Time to ... to ...</p><p>She doesn´t know. So she proceeds with what she does, what she learned.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“You killed your parents?”</strong> </em>
</p><p>...</p><p>Silence. Nothing. Unsure whether there´s something behind it or not, whether June´s trying or doesn´t need to.</p><p>Unsure as to how much her human can and can´t ... do.</p><p>What she feels, her vessel.</p><p>She doesn´t judge, of course, is aware of the mortal concept of morality in the same sense that she´s aware of a squirrel collecting nuts for the winter, birds fighting each other for food, a herd of deer traversing through the forest, closely followed by a lone hunter.</p><p>All of it doesn´t matter because it doesn´t apply because <em>she´s not them</em>, not even close - despite her appearance, despite being ... incentivised to surround herself with them.</p><p>Their rules are theirs to do with as they please, as long as they don´t interfere.</p><p>She´s always been a rather lenient mistress in that regard.</p><p>This particular case however ... it ... <em>gnaws</em> at her. Perhaps because it´s happened with her human, perhaps because it gnaws at June. Perhaps not.</p><p>
  <em>“They were not my parents. And they died in an accident.”</em>
</p><p>June doesn´t lie to her. Smart human. Cunning human. Killing human.</p><p>It´s ... <em>thrilling</em> to know and even more thrilling to pry. To toy with her human.</p><p>She can´t help but enjoy herself, enjoy trying to peak past the facade June´s put up and attempt to catch a glimse at the June behind. The real one. Hers.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“An accident. Tragic, I´m certain. Heartbreaking, surely, for a fragile creature such as a human child, to loose both parental figures during such an important state of development.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>Can´t help herself. Doesn´t want to. It feels ... right.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Leaving behind a helpless, withering girl. Poor child, unsuspecting of the dangers of life, the vanity, the fragile nature of both body, mind and thing.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>And her human squirms and twists and it gnaws and witnessing June´s demise sends pleasurable chills into her self.</p><p>Until June stills all of a sudden and all she can feel is the entirety of her human´s cold, hateful attention on herself.</p><p>It´s ... <em>something</em>. It makes her ... <em>tingle</em>.</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, I killed them. So what? Wasn´t even hard, didn´t even feel like a fucking choice, like an “if”. There was only a “how”. </em>
</p><p><em>So I don´t regret it. Not then, not now, </em>never<em>. </em></p><p>
  <em>I´d do it all over again, only this time around I´d be there watching as their fucking bodies teethered across the edge, crashed and burned until they were nothing but two measly piles of smothering ash wrapped in a metallic coffin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Too bad there was nothing left to bury, I would´ve cried tiers of joy witnessing their dead fucking faces just once. Would´ve even been in character. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Is that what you wanted to hear? Is it? To bask in ... this? </em>
</p><p><em>Well</em> Fuck you <em>then, not for the killing or making me admit it, I couldn´t care less but for making me relive all the other shit</em><em>. </em>That<em>´s why I´m gonna try my hardest to make this life as miserable as possible for you.”</em></p><p> </p><p>It makes her <em>tingle all over</em> ... with joyous amazement.</p><p>Her human´s hard and cold and sharp around the edges, a shell so thick that it´s almost turned into everything there is. Yet June´s still human, still warm and soft and fragile at heart.</p><p>It´s a tremendously enjoyable experience, perhaps the singular peak of this life, but it does not quite manage to overshadow the realization that while June´s not scared easily, not even of her, there´s something there to work with now.</p><p>Not now, not urgently but ... she understands.</p><p>
  <em>She knows.</em>
</p><p>She´ll remember when the time comes.</p><p>It´s not now though, not urgent.</p><p>Now it is time to file down some edges, to smoothe things over with her human.</p><p>It would be a pity to break those pretty thorns – any part of June Moone, now that she´s only just come to see her in the entirety of her ... thrilling nature.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Indeed, that was what I wanted. Thank you for granting me my wish, little moon.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>She doesn´t <em>thank</em> her vessels, she <em>demands</em>, they give and <em>she</em> <em>takes</em>, it´s the way things always were.</p><p>This time around ... this once ... this one ...</p><p>“Thanking” her human feels surprisingly ... adequate, not like the humiliation, the degrading act that it is.</p><p>June´s ... different and now she knows, does not merely <em>feel</em>, does not just suspect the intricacies of it.</p><p>She knows and it´s enough to ... give, just a little.</p><p>Maybe even a little more. Just for now. Just to see ...</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“And I apologize for prying. I won´t, anymore, now that I know. </strong> <strong>As long as you don´t give me reason to.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>It wouldn´t do to only give, of course. No.</p><p>June has to be <em>reminded</em> that what´s given is granted by her ... generosity, not to be taken for granted. June has to understand that she could keep taking until there was nothing left.</p><p>Won´t - but could. Might struggle to do so, but would and would do so successfully, inevitably.</p><p>The idea is tempting and for a second she considers going through with it, taking all and everything there is just to see how her human would react upon realizing, in her final moments, to taste the terror and anger and fear upon being drained into nothingness, where June would be if not for her, where she <em>will</em> go, eventually.</p><p>Not now. Not for some time, if things go her way.</p><p>Right now that way is toying with her June. Her little moon.</p><p>She rather likes the sound of it, June Moone, little moon, her moon, able to shine only in the darkest of nights. Through her.</p><p>She doubts June shares the same sentiment, in fact, she can taste her annoyance whenever she´s getting talked to like the fascinating little thing she is.</p><p>Hers. Human. Small but intriguing.</p><p>Annoying her vessel is a new and therefore very exciting source of delicious thrill.</p><p>
  <em>“What ... this is bullshit, isn´t it? This is you toying with me because you think I´m nothing, stupid and won´t notice being manipulated. I´m not. I´m more than all the fucking women you´ve had before me and you´ll come to see that in due time.”</em>
</p><p>So is confusing her.</p><p>So appears to be getting confused by her human.</p><p>Because she does see it already for what it is, June´s claims, June´s stubborn nature, June´s resistance, June´s body and mind, how she <em>feels</em> and <em>tastes</em> and <em>struggles</em> upon being challenged.</p><p>She is ... more. Better. Just like her – only human. Her precious human.</p><p>Endearing, all of it.</p><p><em><strong>“But I </strong></em><strong>do</strong><em><strong> know, I </strong></em><strong>do</strong> <em><strong>see you, now. Go ahead, feel for yourself if you doubt my sincerity. </strong></em></p><p>
  <em> <strong>You are special and I do apologize for not realizing so sooner. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I´ll take care to make you feel adequate from here on out, more ... valued, if you will. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>It is a give and take, you see, and I shall be more willing to give, since you have so much more to offer than my previous vessels, little moon.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>It´s new, this ... feeling. So naturally, part of her finds it suspicious, repugnant, perilous - which might as well be the case.</p><p>Being this way towards her vessel, subserviant almost, it goes against everything she knows, her nature as well as the nature of ... all, the bond itself.</p><p>Except ... does it? Does it really?</p><p>June would be dead, would´ve vanished without her but where would she be without June?</p><p>Waiting to be found by someone undoubtably less suited than her human, less adequate, less pleasing, less ... fitting.</p><p>And when? In a year? A few weeks? An eternity? It might as well have been, would´ve felt like one.</p><p>June might as well have died in order to free her, give her back her life in a way that counts for so much more than all the previous times, involuntarily, reluctantly - but ultimately, does it matter?</p><p>It´s a give and take, <em>everything</em> is, at least it´s supposed to be and this ... <em>this</em> might require yet another step into a different, one she´s never even bothered turning towards during the entirety of her journey.</p><p>It is something to contemplate, at night, when June can´t catch even a singular glimpse at her thoughts.</p><p>For now it is a faint rational behind the feeling of ... right.</p><p>This, this ... willingness to <em>compromise</em>, a strange feeling, a strange concept – it is both fun to play around with as well as satisfactory.</p><p>And she finds herself impatiently waiting for June to reply, to <em>comply</em>, to acknowledge her leniancy as the extended hand that it is.</p><p>Is it?</p><p>It ... it is still weird. Like expecting a captured animal to put it´s signature beneath an agreement.</p><p>Is she the jaguar? Is she the captor? Is she the deal?</p><p>
  <em>“This ... doesn´t change a thing. This won´t work. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>There´s no way I´m just going to give in because you´ve suddenly seen the usefullness of pretty lies and owning a “compliant vessel”. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I made my point. You made yours quite clear as well. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do you expect me to just move on like that, on a fucking whim of yours? </em>
</p><p><em>Do you expect me to believe that </em>you<em> did, after slaughtering whatever many of my coworkers, lying and betraying my trust, literally stealing away my body and violating my mind? </em></p><p>
  <em>Do you?</em>
</p><p><em>Because you´re a fucking lunatic if you do o</em> <em>r you simply don´t understand anything about being human despite all your fucking years.”</em></p><p>And there´s June with all her wicked edges.</p><p>She quite enjoys their sting, even though she feels as if she could tire of that sentiment rather quickly.</p><p>Does she not understand <em>human</em>? She thinks she does for how could she not, simple as they are - but perhaps she´s wrong. Perhaps they ... changed. Perhaps she never really needed to, not beyond the superficial levels of needs and wants, of why and how.</p><p>It – these new kinds of humans – is a work in progress and progress there will be. Starting with hers, because while she might not fully understand, neither does June.</p><p>Quite clearly so.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Oh June, don´t you see? I am different in so many ways that the similarities between you and me are like droplets of rain in a river. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Communication, values, appearance, needs and wants – if it weren´t for your kind, </strong> <strong>I might be something vastly different. Maybe less, maybe more. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>But that doesn´t matter, </strong> <strong>the only things that do here and now is you and me. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>And you being ... different too, not nearly as much as I am but ... different enough to stick out, to catch my interest.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>A little drop of rain, yet so clearly distinguishable from all the others that fell into me beforehand, so very ... isolated.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I can see that now - and so will you, eventually and when it happens, take joy in the knowledge that I value and treasure you infinitely moreso because of how truly ... different you are.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>She takes care to make her words a gentle flood, slow and sweet but eventually overwhelming and deadly through sheer size.</p><p>It works. Of course it does. She can feel them trickle into June´s self, feel her human turn each and every single one over, once, twice, inspecting them from all their many sides and yet find nothing but the truth that they are.</p><p>Smart human. Smart June. Distrustful, angry, stubborn June.</p><p>Special, she thinks.</p><p>She wonders whether her human has ever been called that before.</p><p>By a teacher, perhaps, by other, lesser specimens of her kind – but not in a way that mattered. June would´ve remembered, otherwise. She would´ve seen it, otherwise.</p><p>It´s both a shame and a gift, a terrific one. A priviledge and a difficulty.</p><p>She´ll stand up to both.</p><p>Although the amount of time passing between her latest attempt and the inevitable backlash is somewhat annoying. It shouldn´t take that long, not when she´s allowing her vessel to literally <em>feel</em> the intention behind each word. Not even for a human mind.</p><p>It makes her want to ... push, tear into June, find the hindering growth and rip it out root and stem. In the end she decides it is not the way towards a successful compromise, may be fast but not quite right. Therefore she has to ... adjust. Improvise.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“You see, I´ve had my fair share of your kind, women, for the most part. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Most of which came to me on their own accord, some not even comprehending the nature of the things around them, let alone one of a being as complicated as myself.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I doubt many of them would´ve even thought of putting up a fight. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I doubt any of them would´ve done what you did in your life, in your shoes. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>And none of them thought and felt</strong> <strong>like you do, didn´t come close and would never have, even with your capacity, your state of being. </strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>It´s ... enticing, your mind, your ways. I want to ... experience it. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Grow in and with it. The idea ... excites me, as many things about this do. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>A new world, a new body, a new life, all of it is thrilling.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>However, all of it is just a different bark on the same tree and in a week, a month, a year I´ll have found every knook and cranny there is, inspected every plant, every bug, every new way that live´s found in this day and age.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>You however ... I doubt you´ll be worn out that quickly. You feel like ... more. Promising.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I wouldn´t want to ruin such an opportunity. I realized as much, do so now in every moment I feel your presence, your mind, your true self beneath my own. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I told you, I´ll know what I want when I set eyes upon it.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>And as it turns out, you´re more than just part of me getting there. For now.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Do you understand?”</strong> </em>
</p><p>Having to wrestle her thoughts and feelings under control, give them shape and direction is yet another novelty, another struggle, another sting of thrill when she´s done with it.</p><p>Her words feel <em>right</em>. The way she´s put them. They ... <em>work</em>.</p><p>Not the perfect fit for her mind but close enough, not her usual mastery but close enough.</p><p>It should be. It should work. Her human´s stubborn but also so much more than that.</p><p>June sees things like she does, at times, straight and true.</p><p>Now?</p><p>She ... hopes so.</p><p><em>Hope</em>. A very ... human thing to feel.</p><p>She doesn´t need to of course, doesn´t need <em>hope</em>, doesn´t rely on it. It´s just <em>there</em> and if it fails there will be ... <em>disappointment</em>? That is ... a word.</p><p>Perhaps it will be a feeling soon.</p><p>It will fade. She´ll replace it with satisfaction upon getting what she wants.</p><p>It´s inevitable.</p><hr/><p><em>“So you </em>are<em> a self-centred, ignorant lunatic.”</em></p><p>June feels many things, just being and listening to <strong>her</strong>, listening outwards as well as inwards and many of the things she feels are not of her own.</p><p>It´s a sensation that makes her writhe and churn in it´s strangeness, it´s unsavoury and intrusive and <em>wrong</em>, to be made to feel another ones feelings, even more so to know that it works both ways whenever <strong>she</strong> feels like ... “tasting” June.</p><p>It´s something straight out of a cheap but admittedly inventive flick – and June should probably feel even worse about it than she does.</p><p>The saving grace – besides her general state of mind – is the nature of things flooding into her consciousness.</p><p>They´re wrong but ... they don´t feel ... <em>bad</em>, per se.</p><p>Don´t feel bad or malicious but <em>make June feel bad.</em></p><p>It´s weird. It´s ... to be expected, probably.</p><p>It´s very fitting of <strong>her</strong>, June supposes, the ambivalent nature of the experience.</p><p>Like ... what the fuck? June´s prepared to fight and bite and claw but what is she supposed to do if the cold, all-dominating fog vanishes from one moment to another and leaves whatever this new pile of shit is?</p><p>June has no idea how and why and what, just that it doesn´t feel ... cold. Not more than what she supposes is the ... base-degree of <strong>her. </strong></p><p>June doesn´t mind the cold, doesn´t mind open windows and snowflakes tumbling into the darkness of her room but ... no matter.</p><p>It´s weird as fuck and she´s horrendously underprepared.</p><p>Which is why she does the easiest thing and changes exactly <em>nothing</em> until she can be sure about what´s going on.</p><p>Insulting the wannabe-goddess is really just taking the next logical step. Kind of. It´s automatic, it´s June trying to think things over in the background while putting up an angry front.</p><p>Not that she doesn´t <em>mean</em> it. The slaughtering thing, the superiority thing, the “my human / vessel / June / treasure”-thing ( not to mention the annoying would-be-nickname she´s apparently stuck with, all of which painfully reminding her of a certain slimy midget and his precious jewelry in popular culture ) – it´s neither sane nor right by any means.</p><p>In fact, if <strong>she</strong> were human, June would</p><p>a.) fight her off with tooth and claw and knife and gun,</p><p>b.) send her to a psychiatrist and could</p><p>c.) diagnose several severe disorders herself.</p><p>However, <strong>she</strong> is not.</p><p>Which complicates the entire thing, since June would have to go to a fucking doctor for – with? – <strong>her</strong> and that´s ... no.</p><p>June´s had her fair share already and besides, the idea of forcing <strong>her</strong> to talk to a doctor through June ... it´s ridiculous to the point where it actually lifts June´s spirits.</p><p>It is ... something, really.</p><p>No matter. Her head is clearly working in mysterious ways. Both of theirs.</p><p>Because June can actually sort of <em>see</em> how and why <strong>she</strong> thinks the way <strong>she</strong> does.</p><p>Because June herself, if she´s to be brutally honest, does own bits and pieces of a rather lofty attitude. Because June, if she <em>were</em> to be thrown into a society of apes, would probably see and hold herself just like <strong>she</strong>´s doing right now.</p><p>Better. Stronger. More than you.</p><p>Wrong and sickening – <em>from a human´s perspective.</em></p><p>June´s perspective ... who knows. She does. So does the thing inside her head, now, calling her special despite - or because - June´s being all sorts of fucked up.</p><p>And June ... gets it, or could, if she wanted to, if she were to pull the right levers, do the right – or wrong – things, allow herself to sink to the bottom and immerse herself into the darkness instead of peaking on it, outwards from the safety of her self.</p><p>It´s a scary thought. Because <strong>she</strong> is.</p><p>Because <strong>she</strong>´s not ... human.</p><p><strong>She</strong>´s taken care to accentuate that, unnecessarily, almost obsessively so and June, for once, doesn´t feel any doubt. Not for one second.</p><p>So how does one move forward with a semi-placated, fully unpredictable non-human inside of oneself?</p><p>Simply continuing on the warpath seems ill-advised, giving-in is not an option and all else is ... weird. Wrong. Like ... yeah.</p><p>Making contracts with an ape about boundaries and landrights. Only that June´s the ape.</p><p>Fuck, this is probably even weirder to <strong>her</strong> than to June.</p><p>Also, <em>fuck</em>, June does probably <em>not</em> want to relate to <strong>her</strong> in any way.</p><p>Instead she needs to think, she needs time to figure everything out, <strong>her</strong> as much as herself.</p><p>She needs peace and to be alone too, but since that´s a thing of the past now...</p><p>What June needs, realistically, not <em>wants</em> but <em>needs</em>, is a compromise.</p><p>No matter how wrong or twisted that might feel, no matter what way it will come to pass.</p><p>Because <em>June</em>´s the ape, <em>June</em>´s the one in danger of dying or loosing herself or being locked into a dark corner of her mind never to emerge again. Not <strong>her</strong>.</p><p>June´s the weak one in this equation and realizing so seems like an essential step.</p><p>Because at the very least she´s not too thick to correctly analyze her situation and who knows, maybe her ... “lesser” perspective is actually a less limited one.</p><p>She will find out about that, about everthing she can. Eventually.</p><p>After ... this.</p><p>
  <em>“A fucking piece-of-shit-a-grade-bitch. But I get it.”</em>
</p><p>The sad thing? She does, June really, really does, despite wishing otherwise.</p><p>And she can throw insults at <strong>her</strong> all she wants, justified or not, in the end it won´t matter.</p><p>It feels ... pointless, really, not just because it doesn´t feel like they hit home, <strong>her</strong>, at all but because it´s a puny act for the sake of being puny, in order to prove something to herself that she´s not even sure about what it entails.</p><p>Something a child would do.</p><p>June should stop.</p><p>June should be more ... respectful. Probably.</p><p>Will she act on that knowledge? Doubtful.</p><p>
  <em>“So ... like ... what else do you want?”</em>
</p><p>There´s actual pain manifesting in June whilst submitting to <strong>her</strong>, at least she´s as sure as she can be, distinctly lacking a sensomotoric system and nerves on her <em>fucking insight.</em></p><p>Either way, any potential effect, doubtful and vague and uncomfortable as it may or may not be, is somewhat nullified by the sharp thrill tearing through the veil at her admission, dimming and dulling and filing June´s own reaction down into almost non-existance.</p><p>Perhaps because <strong>she</strong> has a body, <em>June´s</em> body and June does <em>not</em>.</p><p>Perhaps because <strong>she</strong> feels more intense being whatever <strong>she </strong>is - not implausible, not impossible, especially when compared to a human like ... well, June.</p><p>However, she doesn´t get time to think about it, because while the thrill doesn´t last, not in it´s intensity, it opens up space, a gateway and June, despite being pretty sure that she doesn´t need the help anymore, doesn´t even <em>want</em> it, feels her self getting pulled outwards, not in a yanky, pushy way but ... more like a hand on her back, steady and ... not warm, never, <em>cold and chilling</em> to the touch but ... – it doesn´t matter.</p><p>Not when there´s noise and colour, space and air and trees and water and ...</p><p>A lot of <em>everything</em>.</p><p>June finds herself in a sitting position, as if someone arranged her that way, for comfort and safety. Or maybe not. It turns out in June´s favour either way, because she´s pretty sure that she would´ve stumbled and fallen face-first into the wide stream infront of her were she to be standing.</p><p>Because while nothing´s spinning, nothing´s hurting, nothing feels like shit, everything is close, right on the edge. June is. On the – an – edge.</p><p>Perched ontop of a rock, in the middle of ... a river.</p><p>That she doesn´t remember ever setting eye upon.</p><p>It´s scary and wrong and ... beautiful.</p><p>Because for a second it´s just her in what seems to be the middle of a completely new, unbelievably wide world without limitations, without the same -</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Breathtaking, isn´t it?”</strong> </em>
</p><p>June closes her eyes and fights off the urge to give into the swirl of dread and fear and hopelessness at <strong>her </strong>presence. Instead she deliberately chooses to focus on it, <strong>her</strong> and finds ...</p><p>
  <em>Cold. Warm. Content. Excitement. Peace. Curiosity. Joy.</em>
</p><p>... a lot. Some of which she understands immediately, feels ... echoed in herself, some she can put into a perspective that makes sense to her and some that she can vaguely feel but not understand, that appears ... out of reach.</p><p>Something she´s not meant to see or feel.</p><p>But it´s there and she knows it is and that is enough for now.</p><p>“Yeah.”, says June, out loud, upon re-opening her eyes and drinking in her surroundings.</p><p>Because it <em>is</em> how <strong>she</strong> claims, <em>breathtaking</em>. In an intensity that steals away all thought for a second and only leaves an almost childlike awe and ... <em>peace.</em></p><p>Then June feels silly again, even more so because of <strong>her</strong> amusement radiating outwards.</p><p>However, any responding anger of hers is cut off before it can get a hold of her.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Hush, little moon. We wouldn´t want to disturb this place´s peace, nor our own. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I´d rather dislike it if you would. Don´t you agree?”</strong> </em>
</p><p>And June swallows and nodds because she does and needs, <em>desperately needs</em> to be smart.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Good. Now, I hope you don´t mind me bringing us here. You may of course propose a different location but I find I rather enjoy it here. The place remembers me as much as it reminds me of the past. It feels ..."</strong> </em>
</p><p><em>“Like home?”, </em>June interrupts.</p><p>Guesswork as well as being smart and being attentive. And something that just urges her to annoy the ever-living-fuck out of <strong>her. </strong></p><p>It earns a thin stripe of surprise, thoughts too fast for June to follow then something akin to fondness. To a chuckle.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“I suppose you´d understand it as such. There doesn´t appear to be a word for what it is. </strong> </em>
</p><p><em> <strong>It doesn´t belong to me, you see? It is not property, not my forest, not my river, not my fish and not my birds. The forest, this place ... it works, as a whole, without me, </strong> </em> <em> <strong>as do I whilst I´m not in it´s presence. </strong> </em></p><p>
  <em> <strong>When my path brings me here, however, we work ... together.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Don´t need to, but do, more often than not. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Help each other, give and take.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>There´s a pause that June can´t decipher despite trying her hardest to get a glimpse at the ongoings behind the words.</p><p>Either because <strong>she</strong> consciously shuts her out or <strong>she</strong>´s simply too far ... away. </p><p><em> <strong>“It always worked that way and me and this place, we both remember, </strong> </em> <em> <strong>even after all the years.</strong> </em></p><p>
  <em> <strong>It´s ... comforting, I suppose.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Like old friends, then.”</em>
</p><p>This time there´s no response from her and June´s somewhat disappointed despite knowing better.</p><p>It´s ... fine though, because while the concept of friendship is a strange one, at least June knows it, <em>remembers </em>the feeling.</p><p>Which might be more than can be said for <strong>her</strong>. To <strong>her </strong>it may just be a word.</p><p>June chooses to divert her thoughts very deliberatly and instead focus on something much more palpable and ... useful. This place. The forest.</p><p><strong>Her</strong> talking about it, about "them" in a way that indicates ... fondness.</p><p>The idea of having an entire forest as a friend ...</p><p>There´s a word for it and it´s the exact opposite of yet another word that came to June´s mind plenty of times already. One is “symbiotic”, the other “parasitic”.</p><p>Parasitic. Like a slug or worm or thought or ...</p><p>June doesn´t want to drown in the machinations of her own mind.</p><p>June feels herself ... sinking and right now, she doesn´t need to feel ... anything, neither coming from outwards nor the things that are a result of her own mind.</p><p>She doesn´t. Thankfully, she knows, is prepared, can drag herself out of almost anything.</p><p>
  <em>“Is that why I´ve not been pestered by mosquitoes yet?”</em>
</p><p>It doesn´t matter, but it´s an easy thing that´s been out there, ripe for the taking ever since she´s been back in her flesh and bones.</p><p>And it´s decisively more lighthearted. It works.</p><p>She feels her reemerging, laughter on black lips.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Perhaps. I never paid any thought to it. I presume they just know better than to pester me, on a very ... primal level. Like they wouldn´t hound one of their own, or a mountain or a river, they wouldn´t dream to bug me.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Or you, now. Take it as an additional benefit. I doubt you´ll ever have to worry about any animals ministrations.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>June finds herself raising her eyebrows. It does make sense, in a way, not because they´re <em>scared </em>of <strong>her</strong>, most beings probably lack the necessary awareness beyond an instinctual one, but simply because <strong>she</strong>´s not in their genetically given ... sight.</p><p>Neither as hunter, nor as prey.</p><p>She wonders <em>how</em> they see <strong>her</strong>, whether they do at all, whether a big cat would flee, investigate or ignore <strong>her</strong> – <em>their</em> presence. Perhaps June will find out, in time.</p><p>Or not. It depends on ... if ...</p><p>June can´t hope. June can´t think ahead in silly ways.</p><p>June needs to be sharp and hard in order to even get close to a position where she can allow herself to dream again. Or sleep. It´s a negotiation and this is the way things work, hard and relentless and -</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“You´re too hard on yourself. Don´t lock away parts of yourself. Those are what makes you ... interesting and I´d like to experience it in full. </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>We shall clench all of your ... hunger, eventually, if that is what you desire.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>For now, I take it you don´t object to the place of our counsel? </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Perhaps you´d prefer a more ... spacious one?”</strong> </em>
</p><p>A flash. Mountains. Clouds and trees far beneath. A flattened plane, frozen to the core but free of snow and debris, as if made for gods to meet up and talk. Or go to war.</p><p>June swallows hard.</p><p><em>“No. Here ... works.”</em>  </p><p>
  <strong>“Very well, little moon. Shall we proceed?”</strong>
</p><p>June nodds, suddenly nervous, feeling like she always imagined her pears might do before taking an exam.</p><p>She´s never understood that. She´s always come prepared so why throw a fit about it?</p><p>The last time she´s felt like this was ... on a set of stairs, waiting to see whether there´d be the sound of a doorbell or the shuffling of feet and keys in a lock.</p><p>Her life on the line.</p><p>June´s not prepared.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Don´t fret.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>A touch of cold that doesn´t burn, doesn´t sting yet makes June shiver.</p><p>It´s scarier like this. It reminds her of a staircase and all that came beforehand, only that <strong>she</strong> - and June – are so vastly different that this can´t be, can´t feel the same.</p><p>It´s just a reminder. One June wouldn´t have needed.</p><p>It´s just a touch, a moment, not even <em>real</em> and it´s gone within the blink of an eye.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Tell me, what would you like us to be, little moon?”</strong> </em>
</p><p>And if that´s not a good question, one that takes June´s mind of the past and drags it back into the presence, forces her to think forward, June doesn´t know what is.</p><p>June wants ... June wants to be June. <em>Just June.</em></p><p>But that would be the same as wishing she was a different person, a bird or a star.</p><p>It´s a child´s wish, ignorant, vain and as far from reality as a dream.</p><p>What does she want <em>them</em> to be. “Them”. Herself and ... <strong>her.</strong></p><p>She does not want them to be but that ... it´s a negotiation and June needs to be aware not of what she wants but what´s the extend of things she can possibly get. The best outcome for her situation.</p><p>June thinks and looks around aimlessly, lost inside of her own mind till she´s not anymore.</p><p>It takes a lot of time, time she finds herself being granted. And then she knows.</p><p>“I want to be like the forest.”, she says, out loud, as if it made a difference.</p><p>It doesn´t. She can feel the idea, the vision, the dream radiate inside of her and if she can, <strong>her </strong>living inside of her must see and feel it too.</p><p>It´s <em>June´s</em> dream, though, she´s aware and while June can make certain dreams come true, there´s nothing she can do in order to realize this one.</p><p>She´s not the forest, not strong, not impervious or anything.</p><p>June´s but another ape and all an ape can do, all it <em>has</em> is hope.</p><p>And June´s given up on that long ago so that leaves June with ... nothing.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Like the forest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Like home.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Like an old friend. </em>
</p><p>She takes care to isolate herself from the human, to recede deep beneath the surface.</p><p>It´s ludicrous, impossible, presumptous.</p><p>An insultingly human thing to do – no. Not that.</p><p>A regular human wouldn´t have. It´s a very ... <em>“June”-thing</em> to do.</p><p>Right on the edge of tollerable. Right on the edge ...</p><p><em>Like the forest</em>. One human like a <em>forest.</em></p><p>The very idea seems void of logic, made up by a mind desperately reaching for an escape, any escape, desperate to escape it´s mistress.</p><p>Like the forest.</p><p>Like the forest.</p><p>She can feel the idea simmering inside of June, warm and tempting, she can feel how desperately enamoured her vessel is by the idea, how much she <em>wants</em> despite knowing better.</p><p>Of course. Insolent creature.</p><p>She can feel ...</p><p>The forest, her surroundings, this place being like <em>her</em>, lasting on it´s own, with or without her presence like so many others around the world, her world as she once knew it.</p><p>It is how it is, it is ... <em>whole</em> on it´s own yet willingly embraces her - <em>like old friends.</em></p><p>The human dies without her. She does not.</p><p>The human needs her while the forest does not.</p><p>The forest feels right, feels like comfort and old times, like indifference and appreciation all the same, <em>like home </em>while her human feels ...</p><p>And while the forest doesn´t belong to her just like she doesn´t belong to the forest, June´s undoubtably hers, claimed, irreversably so, not whole without her, a part of something bigger now, not unlike ...</p><p>It´s a give and take.</p><p>Both ways.</p><p>And she gave June <em>life</em>, something a pesky human could never – a life. A body.</p><p>
  <em>It´s a give and take.</em>
</p><p>Like the forest.</p><p>Like a body. A life. Like home. Like a ... <em>friend.</em></p><p>Ridiculous. A foreign concept. Not scary, never, but ... uncomfortable.</p><p>She can feel her human, June, her blurry edges, clinging, hoping and yet ... not. There´s so much dread and fear and terror too, so much present within June she desperately doesn´t see, doesn´t want, turns away from...</p><p>There´s no sense in all of it, this proposition. No reason. The human doesn´t have one either, not a singular reason.</p><p>June doesn´t believe. June´s given up ... hope.</p><p>June hangs on for the sake of hanging on, for trying, because it´s the one thing she´s used to. June doesn´t believe in <em>her</em>.</p><p><em>Like the forest.</em> A known but strangely foreign concept if applied on anything else.</p><p>For a known but strangely foreign mind.</p><p>Something new. Something to learn and ... experience.</p><p>A new body, a new life, a new way. For her. For June.</p><p>For now.</p><p>She returns to her human with an answer.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Very well, June Moone. Like the forest it is.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>_</p><p> </p><p>June´s breathing.</p><p>June only knows because she´s doing so very slowly, very deeply, very <em>consciously</em> in a steady, unchanging pattern of ins and outs.</p><p>She finds that the river flowing around her – them – helps, as does the sound of nature bristling in the distant trees.</p><p>It´s a very harmonious, very peaceful place she´s in the midst of and it´s barely enough to counteract the uproar inside of her, both her own as well as <strong>hers.</strong></p><p><em>Does she believe that <strong>she´</strong>ll</em> – it doesn´t matter. Ins and outs.</p><p>A species of exotic birds crossing from one tree to another.</p><p><em>Will June get banished into</em> – tons and tons of water passing by her insula of rock, to the left, to the right, now and in a minute and thousands of years ago. Ins and outs.</p><p><em>What if</em> – there´s bound to be a whole plethora of fish in this river. Fish and snakes and all kinds of wildlife, none of which will ever be a danger to her ever again.</p><p>If <strong>she</strong> didn´t lie. June doesn´t think she did.</p><p><em>She also doesn´t think that – </em>Where might she be? Africa? South-America? Mexico? Everything hints at the southern hemisphere, but it might as well be an island in the middle of nowhere.</p><p><em>But what if</em> – ins and outs. June can almost feel the forest around her and if she really, really tries she can imagine feeling it like <strong>she</strong> must do, as one thing consisting of trillions of smaller things.</p><p>And herself one of them. Just a tiny cog in a much larger machinery.</p><p>
  <em>And if <strong>she</strong>´s not going to –</em>
</p><p><em>Movement, cold and close and not to be denied, never, by noone and nothing, </em>tearing June´s loose control, steady breathing and idle distractions to pieces.</p><p>It´s like June´s a maiden in days long gone, about to be married to a rotten corpse of a noble.</p><p>
  <em>There´s no choice.</em>
</p><p>She doesn´t want an old man. <em>There´s no choice.</em> She doesn´t want any man. <em>No choice. </em></p><p>She doesn´t want to marry, she doesn´t want <em>them</em>, or <em><strong>her</strong></em> or anything, June just wants to –</p><p>June Moone does not have a choice though. Never again.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>“Very well, June Moone. ´Like the forest´ it is.”</strong> </em>
</p><p>...</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Relief.</em>
</p><p>It´s something that she doesn´t remember ever being a part of her until ... probably until she´s felt June´s presence for the first time, a memory that brings forth both a variety of pain as well as ... that new emotion.</p><p>And joy. And thrill. But for the most part ... that.</p><p>Relief - to an extreme that she´s rarely felt in any emotion, that might be exclusive to this pesky challenge of a human being.</p><p>Or not.</p><p>She´ll find out, eventually. There´s time, the first chunk of which she plans to spend with this human she´s both chosen and yet not. Curious.</p><p>A possible lack in judgement, created by centuries of deprivation and unclenched need but ... it doesn´t change all else she´s thought and felt ever since.</p><p>June´s relief runs deep but short, a brief moment where her brain stops most of its activity and makes room for ... feeling.</p><p>June´s feeling is ... elating, even more so because she´s the one responsible.</p><p>She´s the reason for June feeling a thrill this immense, for breaking the human out of her shell, if only for a moment. Perhaps it is her own responding joy that breaks the spell of feeling, that makes June´s mind reengage and turtle up, faced with something that it still sees as an intruder, something <em>foreign and predatory and scary.</em></p><p>June´s mind has good instincts.</p><p>June´s mind puts up tall and sturdy walls, June´s mind serves it´s mistress flawlessly and with the utmost devotion - and from here on out, it will do the same for her. June will.</p><p>As a ... friend, of course. <em>Like the forest.</em></p><p>Which would laugh at being compared to a human, if it could, if it cared.</p><p>This will take time to adjust to, albeit thankfully, time is on her side and her side is ... "<em>their</em> side" now.</p><p>For now.</p><p>She´ll give June <em>her</em> time, as long as June gives her <em>something</em> in return.</p><p>Something that she´s yet to determine but something that will have to make it worth.</p><p>It´s a give and take after all, and while she has to learn to not just take, June has to learn how to give. It will take time.</p><p>She might change her mind before said time´s come but ... for now, this is what she´s chosen. All that´s left to do is to make her human understand what exactly her choice entails.</p><p>It come easily enough.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Now, while your elation is understandable, you´d do well not to see my decision for something it is not. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>It is not independance for you´ll </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>never</strong>
  <em>
    <strong> be independant ever again.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>It is a ... chance I´ve chosen to grant you. A chance for a ... coexistance, if you will.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>But said existance is still based on </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>me</strong>
  <em>
    <strong>. You can pretend to be the forest all you want, </strong>
  </em>
  <em>
    <strong>we </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>both</strong>
  <em>
    <strong> can for all I care, but it doesn´t change the fact that without me, you´d </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>die</strong>
  <em>
    <strong>. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>And you best not forget that. This is a give and take, little moon, and while you´ve given me a body and a life, one life to me is worth infinitely less than to you. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Do we understand each other?”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>And perhaps there´s more room to improve than she´s realized, at least going from June´s rather displeased reaction, yet there´s no wrong in what she´s told her human, no lie, no deception, not even a shard of bad intention or maliciousness.</p><p>She´s simply ... <em>explaining</em> and perhaps the open nature of her thoughts and feelings is the sole reason why they´re accepted without retribuition.</p><p>
  <em>“I get that, don´t worry.”</em>
</p><p>Except for the general sharp bite that taints June´s words and mood when turned towards her.</p><p>A pity, but expected. No need to ... <em>worry.</em> She doesn´t, never did, and the sole fact that the human´s proposing that she does is ...</p><p><em>Amusing. A challenge.</em> June´s way of repaying her for being confronted with some rather ... unpleasent truths.</p><p>She finds that it doesn´t disturb her nearly as much as it used to mere hours ago.</p><p>
  <strong>“Good. Then let us continue.”</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright.</p><p>This one´s ... hm. Not quite sure. I quite enjoy the vibe, watching them interact from both sides and the ... already changing relationship. It makes sense to me, for the most part, or at least I could like ... justify everything so far. Which is what I´m aiming for in general. </p><p>Either way, thought about cutting that last bit but don´t have anywhere else to put it so ... it stays, I guess. <br/>Pretty much just dealing with their relationship and trying to but it into ... perspective, one way or another. It matters enough, imo. Defines everything that follows.</p><p>Also, yeah, this is for the most part a character-study / relationship-study. In the beginning, at least. And since I´ve got nothing to say and have been blabbering for almost half of this note ( making you reading so far pretty funny and also useless but appreciated nonetheless and yeah I am intentionally prolonging this sentence ) I´ll stop here.</p><p>Have fun. Last prepped chapter today / tomorrow, then much slower updates.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">VI. <em>Taking<strong>/</strong></em><strong><em>giving/</em></strong>steps</span>
</p><p> </p><p>How to bargain with a god?</p><p>What a question. Not one June´s ever thought she needed an answer to, certainly nothing she´d ever want to improvise and do on the fly.</p><p>Especially not when the object of said negotiation is her life.</p><p>Nothing she ever intended, planned for, dreamed of, feared, dreaded.</p><p>The fact that she´s been forced into doing so is somewhat entertaining, from a neutral, uncaring and very cynical point of view.</p><p>Not unlike the one June calls her own - other than the “neutral” part, of course.</p><p>However, June´s life has simply gone crazy and there´s nothing, absolutely <em>nothing</em> she can do about it other than dealing with the symptoms and desperately trying to direct everything in the least-insane-direction.</p><p>Which still seems pretty nuts.</p><p>In this case, “least insane” or “best possible” means June and her goddess fleshing out terms about a civilized sharing of ( what´s formerly been ) June´s body.</p><p>Like a car. Or a bathroom. Or a pet.</p><p>June´s effectively gotten a roommate – a bodymate, really.</p><p>One that´s immeasurably old and not of the same race as her.</p><p>
  <em>Fucking crazy.</em>
</p><p>Crazy to realize that this is the best it´s going to get.</p><p>Crazy to realize that many others in her shoes would´ve freaked a dozen times over, would´ve lost their minds or budged or ... done some shit.</p><p>June´s been busy arguing a point, her point, opposing a goddess – not that it´s resulted in much.</p><p><em>“Like the forest”</em> June´s ass.</p><p>Not like the forest, more like a little kitten, a possession, a source of entertainment.</p><p>
  <em>The best it´s going to get ...</em>
</p><p>Crazy to think that June is still able relate to <strong>her</strong>, can see what <strong>she</strong> sees, both in herself as well as in the world, not to mention literally <em>feel</em> what <strong>she</strong> feels.</p><p>June´s world´s gone crazy and yet she remains strangely unaffected.</p><p>Relatively speaking.</p><p>Considering the whole shit of “Hey, June, you died. Also you´ve been posessed by a goddess. Also, there is such a thing – either that or something akin to Hollywoods Alien – or demons. Also, it doesn´t give a shit about you until it´s fucked around in your mind in order to then be vastly more interested in you than beforehand in a very owner-ish, patriarchistic, dick-heady way.”</p><p>Yeah. Everything taken in consideration, June´s probably doing really well.</p><p>Similar with the whole bargaining thing.</p><p>It´s going ... well. <em>Somewhere.</em> Somewhere that seems ... too good, almost.</p><p>Making June believe that her bodymate is only leniant because <strong>she</strong>´s damn well aware of the fact that <strong>she</strong> can change the terms whenever <strong>she</strong> feels like doing so.</p><p>Or at least thinks that she could.</p><p>Unfortunately, so does June.</p><p>It´s not ... ideal, everything. Yet it´s probably as good as it might get.</p><p>Which is just fucking brilliant.</p><p>At the very least the current state is ... it presents itself as bearable. For now.</p><p>Because June has managed to wrestle back partial rights to her body. Yay...</p><p>The terms of that ownership?</p><p>June will eat and sleep and keep herself in pristine condition, June will furthermore learn everything there is to learn about the modern world, ranging from technology to politics to the people roaming the planet and, <em>of course</em>, June will comply with each and every upcoming demand of <strong>hers</strong>. Otherwise, she´s free to do whatever.</p><p>Meaning June will have to change her life in the most radical of ways to serve <strong>her</strong> purposes and gets to keep ... well, <em>living</em> in return. Consciously.</p><p>With an ever vigilant, ever threatening presence in the back of her head urging her onwards.</p><p>June´s basically a slave on a leash. Or a pet.</p><p><em>As good as it gets.</em> June could cry at the thought but finds herself smiling instead.</p><p>Looking good, doing good, feeling ...</p><p>She´s so fucking tired already and it´s only the first day of her new ... part-life.</p><p>Half-life, if even.</p><p>What might <strong>she</strong> think of June drowing herself in video games?</p><p>There are a lot of things left unclear, undecided or held back, a lot of things June wants to know and even more that she wants to learn – and so much more that <strong>she</strong> will want June to learn.</p><p>There needs to be a list, eventually, but first there needs to be a bed and June in it.</p><p><strong>She </strong>agrees, thankfully, and June, thankfully, is too exhausted to worry upon finding herself in her own four walls mere moments later, somewhere she´s certainly not been anywhere close to for the largest part of a day.</p><p>Bargaining with a god is strenous, aparently.</p><p>Now June´s to live with one.</p>
<hr/><p>Witnessing June´s sleep for the second time is ... different.</p><p>Not vastly so, not objectively speaking and yet it´s somehow different.</p><p>Because it´s <em>her</em> human sleeping, the one that has annoyed and intrigued her into agreeing into this ludicrous experiment of ... well, something different.</p><p>A ... <em>coexistance</em>, perhaps.</p><p>When it comes to the details there is a lot of room left to be explored, to be filled, room that she´s left open for ... reasons.</p><p>Like intimidating June, making her think, leaving her uncertain and placid, room for herself to fill, eventually.</p><p>Also there´s the fact that she simply <em>doesn´t know</em>. Yet.</p><p>The what and the how and the why, a lot of things, a lot of question, a lot of room to be filled.</p><p>June doesn´t need to know that.</p><p>June doesn´t need to know that there´s no real plan, no greater goal, no hidden agenda. There´s just ... this. For now.</p><p>A life, a body, a human, a world, all to be explored and fleshed out eventually, to be put into a place of her choosing when the time is right.</p><p>When she knows, which is not yet, not now.</p><p>What she knows <em>now</em>, has known ever since deciphering her vessel´s core, is that June feels and is ... <em>right</em>, too right in order to just break her and lock her away.</p><p>June has <em>potential</em> to be many things, a vessel, a gateway, a tool and a ... forest, apparently.</p><p>It´s confusing and new, the array of opportunity.</p><p>It is something to be explored, and while thorough exploration takes time, she´s got time aplenty. So giving, potentially wasting some away comes easy.</p><p>There´s no wasting a limitless resource. It´s just spending.</p><p><em>Now</em>, it is time to rest. For June. Her body. <em>Their</em> body.</p><p>An interesting thought. Sharing. Sharing doesn´t make sense, or rather it didn´t until now, there was no reason, no urge, barely any coming from outside and certainly none from herself.</p><p><em>Now</em> ... June´s asleep. And it´s <em>different</em>.</p><p> </p><p>June has nightmares again and she knows that there are pills that her human occasionally takes in order to chase them away, little white globes that June knows very little about other than their nature being both helpful and potentially dangerous. Potentially.</p><p>June has a lot of them.</p><p>Naturally, <em>she</em> doesn´t trust them. She´ll figure those out eventually.</p><p>June has nightmares and although it´s different now, she chases them away again.</p><p>June will never need to take a singular pill ever again, because she´s the only thing that will be impossible to be dealt with from here on out.</p><p>What´s different then?</p><p>She knows ... <em>things</em>. About the human.</p><p>Things that make her see shapes and hear voices in June´s dreams, things she can´t help but be furious at, as openly as she dares. She finds that she doesn´t want June to wake, not for her and certainly not for her nightmares.</p><p>They don´t have a right to be here anymore, at night.</p><p>Not when she´s around, not when her vessel is supposed to rest, to recharge, not when there´s the moon and the stars and June´s supposed to be safe beneath their gaze.</p><p>She´ll take care of it.</p><p>She scares the memories away, thoroughly, and is left satisfied with her work.</p><p>They might not dare to reemerge from her human´s subconscious anymore, not when she pays this much attention, tears into their fabric, rips holes into their skin instead of simply brushing them off the table.</p><p>She´s thoroughly satisified – until a different dream emerges, a different nightly terror, thick and black and full and crawling across June´s skin like a sickness or parasite and -</p><p>Until June dreams of <em>her.</em></p><p>And is <em>terrified.</em></p><p>As she understands, she´s not satisfied any longer.</p><p>Not even remotely - which is odd, because while she certainly doesn´t share June´s fear because she doesn´t <em>need to fear</em> <em>anything</em>, never did, never will, she can feel June´s feelings just as much, just as she could before, a raw, choking sensation that threatens to creep across the entire body and <em>no</em>, she´s not happy with it.</p><p>It feels ... wrong. It feels ... humiliating.</p><p>She´s not ... <em>that</em>. Neither sickness nor parasite nor anything of the sorts.</p><p>And the idea of June´s subconscious, June seeing her that way ...</p><p>Banishing that dream is <em>different</em> too. Harder. It seems to ... cling, both to her and to the human, with long, shadow-y tendrils that she can´t loosen, can´t hurt or scare or dispell in her previous, effortless way of lashing out at it.</p><p>When it´s finally gone and June looses some of the tension in her limbs, finally relaxing, her subconscious somewhere and nowhere but close enough for her to keep watch, she doesn´t relax alongside June.</p><p>Can´t.</p><p>She´s tense and coiled and ... <em>angry.</em></p><p>It takes her longer to calm down, much longer, a large part of the night spent trying.</p><p>In the morning, she´s not learned a thing about the world, very little about June but quite a bit about herself. Her world has already ... <em>evolved</em> overnight, grown a few pieces that are now waiting to be put into a different place.</p><p>She finds that she doesn´t want her human dreaming of her any longer.</p><p>Not like that.</p>
<hr/><p>June´s morning on day one – or two, or three - it depends on how she´s inclined to coutnt although it <em>feels </em>like ... it feels ... weird – is a <em>weird one.</em></p><p>Because it passes mostly undisturbed.</p><p>That of course doesn´t mean that nothing out of the ordinary takes place.</p><p>When June wakes up, there´s something else there already and it frightens her to death for a second – till she remembers and is just <em>regularily</em> terrified, a feeling which quickly changes into something dangerously close to resignation.</p><p>Other than that, other than <strong>her</strong> being there and <em>just being there</em>, like someone constantly watching over June´s shoulder - as June wakes up, as June makes herself leave the warmth and safety of her bedroom, as June soldiers into the kitchen – June´s doing surprisingly ... ok. Physically speaking. Mentally ... but that´s just the new state of being.</p><p>Apparently June´s slept somewhat soundly, apparently <strong>she</strong> is capable of keeping her word.</p><p>This time. It´s ... June supposes there could´ve been worse starts.</p><p>Like another massacre, maybe. Or another ancient site reduced to rubbel and foresty growth.</p><p>Although that <em>does</em> leave the question what her bodymate ( she <em>really</em> has to rid herself - and the world - of that word ) has been up to.</p><p>Because it wasn´t sleeping.</p><p>At least that´s what June suspects. She might have to pull a few all-nighters in order to be sure but ... well. All signs point into the direction of the spirit haunting her being a <em>literally</em> restless one and that will have to do for now.</p><p>And it takes more than one measly spirit to keep June from helping herself to her traditional first cup of coffee ( which is going to be followed by the equally traditional second and third ) and sitting down in her kitchen like nothing´s out of the ordinary.</p><p>All of which really isn´t supposed to be a big deal and yet feels utterly surreal.</p><p>And awkward.</p><p>Drinking coffee in your kitchen shouldn´t feel awkward. <em>It does.</em></p><p>It´s annoying. Day one ( or two or three ) and June already feels her nerves being worn down.</p><p>“This is awkward.”, she mutters, hunched over her mug, adressing her cupboard and the tapestry and everything and everyone else that feels like listening.</p><p>
  <em>Silence.</em>
</p><p>June feels like she´s carrying a landmine <em>somewhere</em> on her body which will inevitably explode, yank her into non-existance or ... elsewhere or do who-knows what.</p><p>An unknown, non-diffusable, sentiant <em>bodymine</em>.</p><p>“I ... this ... will it always be like this?”, she adds, although her gallows humor does give way and leaves room for other things.</p><p>“This ... “</p><p>- and there´s no singular word for not being alone while being alone, for agitation and feeling watched and threatened and on edge and –</p><p>“...tense?”</p><p><em>Silence</em>. Of course.</p><p>Contrary to what it´s supposed to do, successfully did for June on a regular basis, it does <em>not</em> help.</p><p>“Listen”, June starts, continuing to voice her thoughts because if she doesn´t and instead <em>thinks into her head</em> this early in the morning she might faint from exhaustion.</p><p>This time she doesn´t get to finish her thought, messy as it would´ve been.</p><p>This time she gets interrupted.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“It is not like I am doing anything that could possibly agitate you.”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>It´s better than nothing.</p><p><strong>She</strong> almost sounds ... indignated.</p><p>Normal. Except that it <em>doesn´t sound</em> and therefore <em>isn´t normal</em>.</p><p>Can´t ever be, will never be.</p><p>And it might be her imagination, but June feels like <strong>she</strong> – the literal goddess – has ... changed once again. Or something about <strong>her </strong>did.</p><p>In a way. Became more ... modern, casual, human, more like ... <em>June.</em></p><p>Which is both scary as well as comforting.</p><p>June doesn´t ... June doesn´t think of herself as something to be aspired.</p><p>Though it might still be better than the lofty goddess from multiple millenia ago.</p><p>Has to be.</p><p>Although a mixture of both is also quite the discomforting idea.</p><p>Because if <strong>she</strong> changes, what guarantees June that <em>she</em> doesn´t change <em>in return?</em></p><p>Without her even realizing that she does ... June´s mind bending to <strong>her </strong>needs, as did her body.</p><p>And maybe her <em>not knowing</em> something that crucial and her not ever truly being able to know is why June´s feeling as agitated as she is, justified or not.</p><p>Although she would argue that there´s at least one good reason for that, residue, omnipresent.</p><p>That being <em>everything</em> <em>about this.</em></p><p>“You ...”, she begins, thinks better of it, rethinks again and decides on a less accusatory but equally expressive way of voicing her complaint.</p><p>“I can just <em>fucking feel</em> you being there. <em>Right there</em>. Since the <em>second </em>I woke up.”</p><p>And while having someone by her side in the morning and throughout the day would be unusual and probably uncomfortable enough on it´s own, having someone with her, constantly, <em>all the time</em> – literally <em>with</em> her, like a thought or a limb or a cancer –</p><p>that´s ... more than a little uncomfortable.</p><p>More than June can take right here, right now, on day one.</p><p>Be that rational or not.</p><p>Silence is her answer, for a while, though she gets the feeling that there´s something to it, perhaps not dissimilar to her own way of thinking first and speaking second, something akin to wanting to say something but proceeding to think better of it.</p><p>Although most likely it´s just the prelude to June getting thrown back into her own head again.</p><p>Only this time it´s in her kitchen. Nothing she can do, really.</p><p>June takes a sip of coffee which she finds almost disgustingly cold now and waits till she feels <em>that thing</em> again, the movement, the sensation of <strong>her</strong> being there, coming up, into action.</p><p>It´s like something´s crawling across her skin, except that it´s not <em>across</em> but <em>beneath</em>.</p><p>Apparently, June´s slowly getting used to it, creepy as it may be, because she only shudders a little when it inevitably happens.</p><p>And also, she´s apparently not yet receiving the backlash of her complaining, since <em>she</em>´s the one shuddering, the one keeping her skin.</p><p>
  <em><strong>“You ... should get used to it, over time. Me being there. </strong> <strong>Every one of your predecessors did and they were ... less. Until then, I am willing to give way to alternate solutions. </strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Give you ... space, when it´s reasonable.”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>June automatically takes another sip and isn´t remotely as disgruntled by the lacklustre temperature anymore, instead finds herself staring into space unbelieving.</p><p>Because that did sound ... like -</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“-a concession, I am aware. I can be a lenient ...  - I am not unnecessarily cruel, something you´ll come to see in due time.”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>June believes <strong>her</strong>. Or rather June believes that <strong>she</strong> believes in what <strong>she</strong> claims.</p><p>June also believes that their definitions of “unnecessarily cruel” might differ quite a bit.</p><p>But she´ll take it. She´s surprised, of course, vigilant and filled with distrust – but she´ll take it and see for herself what it is all about. How much <strong>her</strong> words are worth.</p><p>
  <em>Starting now.</em>
</p><p>“Right. I´d like some privacy from now and then, generally speaking everytime I use the bathroom or am in a ... indecent position. Using the toilet, showering, getting dressed, all that stuff. Just ... I need some space when I´m ... at my most vulnarable, if you will.”</p><p>It feels weird, having to ask for something so basic, phrased as a demand or not.</p><p>It´s not. It´s June <em>begging agressively</em>, veiled beneath words and attitude.</p><p>Being watched, felt out while showering, while sitting on the toilet, dressing and undressing, alone but never alone, never on her own, never ... safe ...</p><p>It´s opression and control at it´s finest in almost all the ways and June´s position is dangerously close to being a mere subject in a regime as absolute and rigorous as she can imagine.</p><p>June´s aware of all that. June knows control and opression and getting her life dictated by others.</p><p>June remembers.</p><p>June´s also aware that <strong>she</strong> can´t possibly like June´s demands, is likely estranged and enraged and to be honest, June doesn´t quite understand what´s happened that made <strong>her</strong> change <strong>her</strong> ways so radically that <strong>she</strong> even <em>considers</em> giving in to her vessel´s demands – but she´ll take it.</p><p>June will take every single advantage she can get and hold it close to her chest for as long as she can. Because she doesn´t understand and doesn´t know and generally -</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“I will attempt to uphold your wish.”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p><strong>- </strong>all of this confuses and scares the hell out of June.</p>
<hr/><p>It is certainly <em>interesting</em>, this ... <em>agreement</em>, she can´t deny it.</p><p>Interesting and never-been-before and ... challenging.</p><p>It shouldn´t be but it is.</p><p>June´s currently ... she swallows the need to know, the urge to see for herself.</p><p>She could, but can´t - shouldn´t, won´t.</p><p>It´s <em>challenging</em>, actively not gazing outwards, actively withdrawing herself and letting her human be and do. Whereever that is. Whatever that is.</p><p>She suspects June´s bathroom. She suspects that June is taking a shower, taking care of herself ( most of which she doesn´t need to do anymore ), perhaps thinking in ways and directions that June suspects could annoy her.</p><p><em>Challenging.</em> Because it would be so <em>easy</em>, so effortless, perhaps even go completely unnoticed if she were to be careful ...</p><p>It´s close to tormenting, having to restrain herself. It´s new.</p><p>She´s admittedly not used to it and the more time passes, however much that may be, the less bearable this state of being feels.</p><p>It´s not natural. Not as it should be, not as <em>she</em> should be.</p><p>There´s a body and a mind out there, both incredibly fitted for her, both incredibly alluring in their ways and she´s supposed to starve herself, a ghost of her true potential?</p><p>It´s ... it´s ...</p><p>If she had a body she´d writhe and twist and shake. She doesn´t.</p><p>Perhaps she´d blow off some steam too and indulge in all of the many ways known to her. Perhaps she will.</p><p>She only needs to <em>last</em>, to outlast her human´s needs on the outside, something that shouldn´t be hard considering the time she´s spent in complete isolation beforehand.</p><p>This is worse though, it <em>feels</em> ten times worse and twice as long and she doesn´t even know why.</p><p>Except that it has to be because of June and the fact that she <em>could</em>, the fact that the singular thing keeping her is her own control and the wish to ... to ...</p><p>She just doesn´t want to be ... <em>that</em>. Like that. Her human´s nightmare.</p><p>Which would be a ridiculous notion if it didn´t feel as <em>right</em>, as utterly <em>prerogative</em> and <em>necessary</em> as it does.</p><p>For now, that means control, stewing in her own misery for the basic, simple-minded and <em>ignorant</em> needs of a being that will perish in mere decades, will be a mere afterthought in a century and forgotten in a few more.</p><p>Ridiculous. Not normal, not as it should be.</p><p>She shouldn´t have to restrain herself, for nothing and nobody, shouldn´t have to degrade herself like this for nothing and nobody.</p><p>She ... and ... suddenly there´s an ... idea.</p><p>If <em>she</em> is willing to try – <em>“like the forest”</em>, right?</p><p><em>Give and take</em>. If <em>she</em> allows <em>the trees</em> to prosper, <em>the trees</em> give shade, piece and welcome in return. If <em>she</em> allows <em>June </em>her time, there´s <em>something</em> to be given in return.</p><p>So it´s not for nothing. For <em>something </em>then. Not time, she´s got time aplenty, but ... <em>something</em>.</p><p>Something she lacks and something she wants.</p><p>And she wants ... she wants ...</p><p>A challenge. This is a challenge. She´s currently busy standing up to June´s challenge.</p><p>She´ll give June one in return. It´s a give and take.</p><p>June will be made to give her ...</p><p>Ah. That´s an idea.</p><p>And suddenly she doesn´t mind waiting all that much anymore.</p>
<hr/><p>The first part of June´s day has felt off for a very specific reason.</p><p>This one feels off just as much, if for another reason entirely.</p><p>Although “entirely” does give the wrong impression, is the wrong way to approach the issue at hand. It takes some time, a shower, drying herself off and finishing her usual routine to be exact, all of which feels somewhat ... weird - but June at last does find what´s egging her on still.</p><p><strong>She</strong> kept her word, there´s very little to no doubt about that.</p><p>June payed attention. June payed <em>extensive</em> attention because it <em>fucking mattered</em>, because June refuses to be spied upon and lied to without her knowing.</p><p>And while <strong>she</strong>´s been there, <strong>she</strong>´s not been <em>there</em>, not <em>with June</em> in the same way that she´s been beforehand.</p><p>Further away.</p><p>And restless, there´s little to no doubt about that, a sentiment that June literally couldn´t help but share despite being pleased about how this demand of hers turned out.</p><p>Because as much as she´s caught glimpses off <strong>her</strong> writhing in whatever troubles reigned on the inside, June´s been squirming away on her own.</p><p>A nervous, vigilant wreck that not even the pleasent sensation of water running down her back, her face, her everything could rectify.</p><p>If June´s been carrying around a landmine on herself beforehand, now it´s been taken away and placed somewhere within five feet, it´s exact location unknown to her but still <em>there</em>.</p><p>And June knows and June´s barely feeling any relief at all, feels as if she´s still carrying around it´s full weight.</p><p>It´s aggrevating, it´s nerv-wrecking and it´s <em>worse</em> now because <strong>she</strong> is keeping her word, keeping away from June and so it´s all <em>June´s</em> doing.</p><p>At least as much as it can be, in this situation.</p><p><strong>Her</strong> calming down eventually doesn´t help, because it inevitably leads to June´s anxiousness rising to new levels that seem almost void of oxygen, ones that go along the lines of “what is going on with the goddess inside of me, what could she be doing,</p><p>what is she planning”.</p><p>It sucks. All in all, it´s one of June´s least favourite mornings in a long time.</p><p>Pretty close to the one of her death, actually.</p><p>Except that she didn´t quite die, of course, and is now apparently prone to <em>not enjoying her showers and generally suffering in a stew of uncertainty and an all-in-all simply horrifying situation.</em></p><p>It sucks to a point where June actually <em>hurries</em> to get dressed – not having to busy herself with makeup is still a somewhat decent novelty - in order to call upon <strong>her</strong> again.</p><p>It´s weird. June knows she´s waiting in there, somewhere, like another girl waiting just outside of the bathroom imperceivably and yet somehow applying an immense pressure onto June. </p><p>All June knows is that she doesn´t want her – the girl, roommate, bodymate, goddess, whatever – to get impatient, barge in and catch June in her underwear - and therefore hurrying it is.</p><p>It´s ridiculous and confirmation in June´s firm “no” to ever getting a roommate or, for that mater, <em>anyone</em> to share her private space with at all.</p><p>Too bad she´ll never be able to use this experience in an argument ...</p><p>June laughs – until she realizes that now she´s got someone not in her four walls <em>but in her body</em>, a homicidal, narcissistic, non-human roommate that switches <strong>her</strong> ( and how ridiculous is the continued usage of that pronoun ) oppinions and standpoints from one day to another.</p><p>At least <strong>she</strong>´s easy to hospitilize, doesn´t listen to loud music ( does <strong>she</strong>? <em>Did</em> <strong>she</strong>? ), doesn´t invite any boys over ( does <strong>she</strong>? Did <strong>she</strong>? <em>God, please no</em> ... but what about <em>girls</em> and – June refuses to continue that thought ) and is easy to talk to. Relatively speaking. “Speaking”.</p><p><em>“Hey.”</em>, June <em>thinks</em>,</p><p>somewhat aggressively, desperately wishing that she could cough internally in order to get rid of what feels like <em>rust on her inside</em>. Her “mental-chords”, perhaps.</p><p>Which is a phenomenon that would utterly fascinate her in a neutral, June-not-being-acutely-involved-scenario. Alas ...</p><p>
  <em>“I´m done.”</em>
</p><p>And fuck June if it doesn´t sound like she´s talking to an <em>actual</em> person, one that <em>has</em> been waiting to use the bathroom. Or stove. Or oven.</p><p>Or her.</p><p>It feels so immensely weird that June ends up being glad for the ever-distracting questions her mind comes up with. Because <em>bathroom</em> and <em>food</em> and <em>drink</em> and ... does <strong>she</strong>? Could <strong>she</strong>?</p><p><em><strong>“She does not.”</strong></em>, is June´s answer and</p><p><em>There´s my landmine</em>, June thinks, to herself, briefly forgetting that there´s more now and always will be – and blushing furiously when she feels a wide array of responding feelings radiating outwards.</p><p>
  <strong>“<em>Not very flattering if slightly humorous. </em></strong>
  <em>
    <strong>Alas, I do not require sustenance or ... acts of self-preservation in the same way that humans do. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>I suppose one might say that these are your responsibility alone and I expect you to uphold them with the utmost care. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>This is a matter of great importance to me – as it should be to you – and I am ashamed of forgoing it thus far. However, I trust that you don´t require any ... explaining on my part as to the exact nature of those duties?”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>One), that´s interesting and <em>will</em> make the eventual list,</p><p>Two), there´s probably something to be learned from it like what´s with all the attitude or is that her imagination and</p><p>Three), no, June does not need or want a lecture from a corporeal presence as to how to take care of herself. Although ...</p><p>
  <em>“Anything else other than what I´ve already been doing?”</em>
</p><p>Silence. Movement.</p><p>June knows what <strong>she</strong>´s looking for, looking <em>at</em> and for a brief, dreadful second is horribly aware of the countless times she´s already been on the toilet in her twenty-something years, been busy shaving or sweating or exploring and indulging in certain urges and it´s the most –</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“Possibly. You might find that you have an increased appetite, perhaps even a need or urge for a different diet. More nutritious than your current one. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Beyond that I approve of your regimen and you´ll come to experience that my presence only contributes to reaching your body´s full potential and ultimately exceeding it. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>As much as you´ve found yourself unbothered by wildlife, you´ll be unbothered by sickness and injury. I´ll purge those out of your system as I become aware of their presence. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>You´ll additionally find that I am very much aware of everything. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>All these factors combined create the state of being you currently find yourself in, something I´d describe as the ... best suited version of yourself. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>You are welcome.”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>... Huh.</p><p>Changed. June and ... <strong>her. </strong>Because that again sounded deceptively ... human.</p><p>Because June has noticed <em>things</em>, but hearing about all of that is ... <em>huh.</em></p><p>She can appreciate it, dimmed as her excitement might be. It´s still <em>something</em>, something at least partially positive. </p><p>But it´s also a reminder, amongst other things, that it´s not her anymore, not human anymore.</p><p>Amongst other things. Something to debate in a less ... noisy hour.</p><p>
  <strong>“Did you <em>enjoy</em> your ... privacy?”</strong>
</p><p>There´s definetly an element of ... snarky, dark humor in her voice that´s not been there mere hours ago. It´s presence ... something to think about. </p><p>But much more importantly, it tells June that <em>something</em>´s up. She just doesn´t know <em>what it is</em>.</p><p>So June can´t decide whether lying would be worth it and ultimitely decides to stick to the truth.</p><p><strong>She</strong>´d probably feel it if June lied in an obvious fashion. Or in general. Probably.</p><p>
  <em>“Not as much as I expected to.”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“<em>A pity</em>.” </strong>
</p><p>It doesn´t feel like pity, like there´s <em>any</em> pity in <strong>her</strong> at all. June doubts <strong>she</strong>´s ever known the feeling beyond the meaning of yet another word, ever truly <em>felt</em> it.</p><p>In <strong>her</strong>, June only feels ... contempt. Contempt and thrill and cold.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“It doesn´t change the fact that we´ve come to an agreement. “Like the forest”, you said, and like the forest there´ll always be the need for something in exchange. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>You took some of my time. You </strong>
  </em>
  <strong>will</strong>
  <em>
    <strong> give me something in return.”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Boom. June stumbles into the landmine and is knocked off her feet, like the oblivious, incapable, small-brained-ape that she is.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.</em>
</p><p>“Fuck!”, June says, not caring that her antics doubtlessly contribute to <strong>her</strong> amusement and contempt and thrill.</p><p>June feels her own embarressment and horror as well as <strong>her</strong> cold glee at the same time.</p><p>She´ll need to be much more careful in what she asks for if this is going to be the case every time. Which it sure as hell looks like.</p><p>For it´s not like she could deny whatever request are going to be made, dreadful, gruesome, terrifying as they may be.</p><p>Like the forest. Only that this relationship is based on ... <em>what?</em></p><p>A unequally distributed need and vague, shaky interest?</p><p>A lot of good will and cunning two-faced-ness on both sides instead of trust?</p><p>June honestly can´t afford to deny any requests, especially those founded on a somewhat reasonable basis.</p><p>A favour for a favour.</p><p>It sounds disturbingly fair.</p><p>
  <em>It won´t be.</em>
</p><p>Not even a little.</p><p>June breathes and stares into the air of her appartment that suddenly feels much thinner.</p><p>
  <em>“Yes?”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>K. </p><p>Now, as threatened, we´ve caught up with my finished material. So much for the bad news.</p><p>Good news is: Things are going to pick up in pace pretty soon pretty quickly. Got the characters and their ideas and everything sort of established, there´s something there on both sides so we´re getting ready to involve ... the world, really.<br/>Not that it matters all that much compared to these two - or to them - but ... yeah. Kinda looking forward to it. Branching out, room for ideas and stuff. We´ll see.</p><p>Got some ideas, some szenes in my head but I´m largely winging it from here on out. No idea how far we´ll be along for the ride. Long enough in order to be ... conclusive, I guess, however long that may be. Lots of development yet to be done till we´ll be there where I want them to be so ... yeah.</p><p>Either way, no strong feelings towards this one. Still kinda setup-y for an actual small thing but one I´ve been CRAVING ever since I thought about this fandom. You´ll see. </p><p>Thanks for those of you reading / liking, should´ve said so earlier but I do appreciate your presence. Would also love some feedback but it´s fine, never left one of my own despite absolutely loving some stories and writers out there so I get it. ( Probably shouldn´t even have bothered putting this done. Don´t like to censor myself though so ... it stays. )</p><p>Right. That´s that done. Now I may get back to actual writing.<br/>Cya soon, hopefully.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can I do these every time? Idk. Hopefully.<br/>Either way, always enjoyed reading an authors thoughts on his work ( and readers ) so I´m gonna do that as well.</p><p>Right. Assuming that this will be somewhere around the first chapter - I´ve not really been planning anything back then. So ... there are a few loose ends, a few unexplored ideas and perhaps even inconsistencies and whatever. It´s basically just what I always assumed to be the somewhat movie-canon-origin story and me thinking onwards from there on out.<br/>Down rather different ... paths then the movie so you won´t have to worry about that. No squad, no apocalypse ( probably ), no abhorrent writing and waste of ideas that are actually not that bad ( hopefully ).<br/>Right. Enjoy. Ideally.</p><p>Here´s to hoping this works out as intended.</p><p>Yep. Does. Although having to re-edit everything is a pain. Got 6/7 chapters waiting ( and up already on FF-net but it´s whatever ) but simply reediting AGAIN will take some time and then there´s writing and work and ... yeah. We´ll see. About everything, really. Have some pretty sweet ideas though so hopefully you´ll enjoy the read as much as the ... wait? That doesn´t quite makes sense. Whatever. Here it is. ( also non-native-speaker and first published story and anxious so be gentle pls )</p></blockquote></div></div>
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